


It’s Just a Silly Phase I’m Going Through

by Polaris



Series: I’m Not in Love [3]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Bottom Kraglin, Flashbacks, Forgive me Sean Gunn for I have sinned, Gross Ravagers, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Other, Past Torture, Polyamory, Rimming, Roleplay, Secrets of the Pouch, Spitroasting, Trauma, raccoon sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-01-31 08:50:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 24,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12678513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polaris/pseuds/Polaris
Summary: The sun’s reflecting brightly off the white buildings, and everything Rocket’s spent the last year building starts to crumble when she turns and smiles at the guy she’s walking with.He remembers that smile. It used to greet him every time he woke up strapped to a table.





	1. Chapter 1

God, Rocket hates Xandarians.

With one notable exception who’s slumped next to him in the _Starhawk’s_ huge mess hall, they’re all smarmy assholes who think the galaxy revolves around them. 

And they dress stupid.

Kraglin grunts an agreement when Rocket relays this to him. “Well, yeah,” he says, slurping his soup. “Why’d ya think I left?” 

“Thought you left ‘cause of Yondu’s ass in tight pants.” Rocket grins at him.

“That too.” 

Stakar runs a tight ship. Normally Rocket wouldn’t give a damn, but the downside of the overhaul on the Quadrant is that they have nowhere to live while it’s going on. The idea of all eight of them piling into the _Milano_ is laughable. Not only would they drive each other crazy in fifteen minutes, there’s no privacy. 

Rocket and Quill had taken one look at the sleeping quarters and ruled that out.

So negotiations had to happen about where the Guardians of the Galaxy were gonna crash while they got a shiny new ship courtesy of Ogord.

The Nova Corps offered them housing planetside, which was an option until Nebula limped her beat-up M-ship back into their lives. Rocket didn’t ask for details, but he knows what necroblast looks like.

The Kree ain’t too happy with the daughters of Thanos.

But they’re not the only ones. The Xandarians have a huge bounty out on Nebula, and Gamora’s first order of business with the Nova Corps is making that disappear. Rocket’s not too optimistic about her chances, but then, Rocket’s not too optimistic about anything. Either way, her showing up killed their chances of living it up in some high-class hotel on Xandar.

Kraglin’s jumpy. Has been since they all moved into their temporary rooms on Stakar’s ship. He keeps his back to the wall when they’re out in the common areas, and Rocket’s seen his hand twitching toward the big knife on his back more than once. It’s especially bad during shift changes, like now.

Nebula sets her tray down opposite Kraglin and Rocket and sits, her shoulders hunched a little. One benefit of her hanging out with them is that the other Ravagers avoid them like the plague.

“Hey Blue.” Rocket munches on some jerky. Say what you want about the _Starhawk,_ the food is good.

She grunts. “Are you going down to the surface with the others?” 

Rocket makes a face. “Yeah.” Nova Prime wants a report on what the hell had caused all that destruction across her empire several months ago. 

Hence Rocket’s bitching about Xandarians.

Nebula’s mouth turns down before she digs into her food. 

“Want company while the rest of ‘em are planetside?” Kraglin asks her.

“You’re not going?” Nebula pauses mid-bite.

“Nah.” Kraglin shrugs, a little too casually. “Ain’t nothin’ on Xandar I wanna see.”

Rocket eyes him, but lets the topic drop. He knows Kraglin’s Xandarian, but he don’t actually know anything about his life before he became a Ravager. There’s shit in all their pasts they don’t talk about.

Nebula’s dark eyes skip to the knife on Kraglin’s back. “We could train,” she suggests slyly.

Rocket looks between them and sees Kraglin’s lips twitch. “Guess we could,” he agrees.

Rocket remembers how crowded the gym gets after the first shift rotation and sighs. “If you kill any bystanders, make it look like an accident.”

“We don’t want to kill them,” Nebula tells him calmly. “We just want them to know that we could.”

Maybe Quill or Yondu would roll their eyes at that, but Rocket’s not gonna. He’s almost as determined as Kraglin to stay pissed at Stakar. 

His comm beeps. “Crap. I’ll see you guys later.” Rocket scrambles off the bench. “You wanna clean up my tray, baby?” he asks Kraglin with a winning smile.

He gets a middle finger, but not a no, so he blows Kraglin a kiss and heads for the hangar.

—

First thing he hears when he gets close to the _Milano_ is Drax’s bellowing laughter. He clears a corner and sees him standing with Mantis and Yondu. Mantis is still kind of overwhelmed by the number of people on the _Starhawk;_ they won’t take her planetside until they have the time to stick with her. She must be here to see them off. They’re all grinning, so Rocket ain’t too worried.

Kraglin’s not the only one who’s been tense around the Ravagers. Yondu ain’t jumpy, but to Rocket’s knowledge he hasn’t seen Stakar or his first mate, the sparkly one, since they first came aboard. 

This place don’t suit any of them, but Rocket’s been in worse joints, so he won’t complain. Eye on the prize, as Quill likes to say.

And speaking of.

“Guys! Let’s go!” Quill pounds twice on the _Milano’s_ viewport from where he’s up in the cockpit.

“Have fun!” says Mantis brightly. Groot waves from her shoulder.

It’s actually a relief to step out onto the fancy platform, even though the presence of so many Nova Corps makes Rocket’s skin crawl. It’s natural, okay? A guy can’t be expected to forget having to break out of twenty-three prisons.

But Yondu’s walking next to him, and Drax is on his other side, and Rocket figures that makes him about as safe as can be.

“Star-Lord,” says Nova Prime warmly, the bright sunlight highlighting the creases around her eyes. “It’s good to see you again.”

Rocket doesn’t look at Yondu or they’ll both start snickering. That Quill’s badass outlaw name was actually his mom’s nickname for him will never not be funny.

“Good to see you too, Nova Prime.” Quill’s all smiles. “I understand you’ve got some questions about all the damage and what caused it.”

None of them had been able to miss the remains of Ego’s little Expansion; even Rocket, who’s callous at the best of times, is pretty horrified by how bad it is. Months after the fact, there’s still a huge glob of...something on the outskirts of the city. 

Nova Prime’s smile is strained. “I’m sure you can see why I need an explanation. People died, and families want answers.”

Quill looks down, and Gamora covers his hand with hers.

“We can explain everything,” she tells Nova Prime, “but it is a rather sensitive topic. Can we speak in your office?”

“Of course.” Nova Prime glances at Drax and Yondu. And probably Rocket too, although her eyes don’t skip down to his level. “Your companions should feel free to visit the city.”

Guess they’ve been dismissed. Yondu scoffs after Nova Prime disappears with Quill and Gamora.

“She’s hotter ‘n in the holos,” he says.

Rocket makes a face. “Seriously? You think _she’s_ hot?”

“I agree,” says Drax. “She is a bit skinnier than I prefer, but her face is pleasing.”

“Who’s lookin’ at her face? ‘S her tits I was starin’’ at.” Yondu grins.

Drax’s laughter gets them several dirty looks on their way out the door.

—

They’re walking in the square where he first met Quill when he sees her.

Later, that’ll strike him as poetic or ironic or some shit. The sun’s reflecting brightly off the white buildings, they just left a great noodle shop that didn’t even question Rocket’s presence, and everything Rocket’s spent the last year building starts to crumble when she turns and smiles at the guy she’s walking with.

He remembers that smile. It used to greet him every time he woke up strapped to a table. 

The sunlight’s blinding, and suddenly he’s right back there again, cursing her out at the top of his lungs, along with the other scientists while they press him down, shave the spots where they’re planning to cut. It’s routine by now, the blinding lights and the antiseptic stench and her voice shouting orders over his swearing until they pick up the scalpels and the yelling turns into screams...

“—Rocket?”

He gasps, ears flat against his skull. Drax is staring at him very seriously, and Rocket realizes he’s got his claws dug so hard into his arms that he’s bleeding.

“I—” He coughs, tries to take a deep breath. It comes out way shakier than he likes. “I just—”

“Who?” asks Yondu quietly.

Rocket looks at him. There’s a grim understanding in the set of his jaw, and Rocket remembers that Yondu’s wanted for _something_ in twelve Kree provinces.

“Her name’s Ryback,” he finally says. 

Yondu nods. “We’re goin’ back t’ the ship.”

Drax—for once in his life—takes a hint and doesn’t ask as Yondu steers Rocket back toward where they docked the _Milano_. It’s only when Rocket’s sat on one of the chairs in the cockpit that he crosses his arms and demands, “what was that? You’re shaking.”

Rocket scrubs his hands over his face. It’s better, being back here where everything smells like home, but shit. “Saw one of the scientists who used to work at the lab where I...” He bows his head. “You know.”

Drax’s expression goes straight from confusion to outrage. “She escaped justice?”

That makes Rocket laugh. It ain’t a happy sound. “What justice? You think the Nova Corps raided the place and busted me outta there?” 

Drax frowns, and sometimes Rocket forgets that he used to have a normal life before his family got killed. Things the rest of them just _get_ still bother Drax.

“She th’ only one still alive?” asks Yondu. And fuck if Rocket’s heard that coldness in his voice since he ordered Kraglin to ready the Quadrant.

“Think so,” Rocket mutters. “I didn’t stick around to check.”

“She cannot go unpunished,” Drax decides.

“Dude, you remember our immunity is totally dependent on us not killin’ people here on Xandar?” Rocket glares at him. “She’s a civilian now. We can’t touch her.”

Yondu doesn’t say anything, but his silence is pointed. And he’s staring at Rocket like he knows what he’s thinking.

It’s not disapproval Rocket sees in his eyes.

“Drax, you can go back if you want. Don’t gotta stay here and babysit me if there’s stuff you gotta do.” Rocket hates the thought of being coddled.

Drax, to his credit, asks, “do you want me to go?”

And Rocket says, “yeah,” knowing the dude won’t take it wrong like Quill does.

Drax nods, and then runs a hand fondly over Rocket’s head. “You are more than what they tried to make you,” he says quietly. “And I will kill her myself before I allow one of my family to suffer.”

Rocket’s mouth falls open, but before he can say anything, Drax stomps down to the hatch and is gone.

“He got a way with words, don’t he?” says Yondu, who’s staring after Drax along with Rocket.

“Fuck.” Rocket runs a hand over his face. He’s not touched by Drax’s words. He’s not.

“You want ‘er dead?” Yondu finally asks.

“Yeah. Thought she died in the explosions.” Rocket can still remember the vicious glee he’d felt watching the living quarters go up.

Yondu nods. “I reckon we can make it look like an accident, if you want.”

Rocket barks out a laugh. “Nice offer. Let me think about it.”

Yondu sits down next to him and reaches out a hand, letting it hover over Rocket’s cheek. It’s Rocket who pushes into it, closing his eyes at the warmth and weight. It’s not enough to make him stop shaking, but Yondu doesn’t mention it.

—

“You guys better not have had sex in my ship,” is the first thing out of Quill’s mouth when the others get back.

“We did,” Yondu tells him with a straight face. He’s lounging in the pilot’s chair, feet kicked up. “All over it. Take a black light t’ this place, it’d look jus’ like yer room when you was a teenager.”

Rocket manages a smirk.

“Well, joke’s on you, old man. Gamora and I already had sex all over this ship!” Quill actually looks smug.

“Issat so?” Yondu raises an eyebrow. “You make him wrap it up, girl. I know where he’s been.”

“Hey!”

Gamora smirks. “Don’t exaggerate, Peter. We only had sex in the pilot’s seat.”

Turns out Yondu can move pretty fast for an old guy. When he’s standing, he leans casually against the wall. 

Drax bellows a laugh. “Well done, Quill! Your mutual bizarre aversion to one another’s sex lives has finally worked in your favor!”

Even Rocket has to admit it’s funny. But they do have stuff to discuss. “You clear the bounty on Nebula?”

Gamora’s smile fades. “Nova Prime is willing to consider it, but she needs approval from the legislative body before she can confirm.”

“How long’s that gonna take?”

“Won’t be quick,” says Quill. “And did you know Kraglin had an outstanding warrant? He was wanted for desertion.”

“ _What?_ ” Rocket whirls on Yondu. “Kraglin was in the Nova Corps?”

Yondu smirks. “Mighta been. I didn’ ask too many questions ‘bout where he came from.”

“How can you have been together that long and never ask?” 

Yondu just shrugs.

“Don’t bother,” says Quill. “I gave up trying to understand them when I was about thirteen.”

Rocket sighs. Truth is, the distraction is welcome. He’d rather think about Kraglin’s mysterious past than Elizabeth Ryback’s sunny smile.

Of course, life ain’t that considerate. “What happened to your arms?” Gamora asks him.

Rocket’s ears go back, but before he can say something he’ll need to apologize for later, Yondu breaks in.

“Told ya we got up t’ some shit, girl. Don’ ask questions you don’t want answers to.” 

Gamora rolls her eyes in the face of his dirty grin, but she lets it drop.

—

As if the day couldn’t get any crappier, they bump into Stakar while they’re doing post-flight checks on the _Milano._ His sparkly first mate’s with him, and they’re inspecting the M-ships like a goddamned Nova admiral or something.

Yondu stops dead at the sight of them. 

Quill, who has his face buried in his datapad, walks right into his back and almost bowls him over. “Hey! I’m gonna put you in a home if you start spacing out in the middle of—oh.”

Yondu manages to give Quill an annoyed look before his expression melts into alarm.

Stakar’s coming over. “Yondu!” he calls, all smiles. “Got a minute?”

Yondu thumps his chest twice with a grateful smile. “Of course. What is it?”

“Heard you were meetin’ with Nova Prime. She as cute as she is in the holos?”

“Cuter,” says Yondu. He doesn’t elaborate. Just watches Stakar with this mix of eagerness and apprehension that sets Rocket’s teeth on edge.

“Yeah, she wanted to hear about how we took out Ego with just nine people,” Rocket says loudly. He catches Quill’s eye.

“That’s right.” Quill puffs up a little. “And she wanted to make sure Yondu got appropriate credit for his role in the Battle of Xandar.”

Yondu looks like he wants the deck to open up and swallow him.

“What role in the Battle of Xandar? That was you?” Sparkles actually gapes at Yondu. “ _You_ took your boys into combat against a Kree battle cruiser?”

“Damn right he did.” Quill raises his chin proudly and slings an arm around his old man’s shoulders. 

Yondu actually hunches a little. Like he’s trying to make himself smaller.

And all the pent-up fury that’s been working its way through Rocket all afternoon finds a target. 

“Don’t sound so surprised, Sparkles. Not everyone wastes their armies on bullshit instead of actually doin’ stuff that matters.”

“ _Rocket!_ ” Yondu hisses.

It’s enough to shut Rocket up, but it doesn’t stop him from glaring at Stakar, who’s no longer smiling.

“You probably wanna talk to the rest of your people,” he says, theoretically to Quill. But it’s Yondu he’s looking at. “We’ll talk later.”

Yondu salutes meekly and stares after them for a long time after they walk away. Then he rounds on Rocket. “Why the hell’d you say that? We’re guests here!”

“Pretty sure he was sticking up for you,” Quill points out. “Honestly, it’s pretty rude the way they always act surprised about every decent thing you did since they kicked you out.”

And there it goes again; Yondu shrinks a little. “They had every reason t’ kick me out. You know exactly what happened t’ all them other kids.”

Quill’s jaw clenches. “Hey,” he says quietly, “he fooled me too. And my mom, and all those kids’ moms. Don’t beat yourself up too much.”

“Yeah. Ain’t like Stakar took his fleet to go get rid of the bastard when he found out what was going on either,” Rocket points out. He’s still seething, and Yondu stopped him from going off on a perfectly good target.

Yondu grunts. He’s already coming back to himself if the way he pushes Quill’s hand off his shoulder is anything to go by. He adjusts his coat without making eye contact with any of them.

“Drax,” says Gamora tactfully, “do you want to go check on the Quadrant’s progress? Kraglin said he’d be overseeing it.”

Drax raises his eyebrows. “Yes. I think that’s a great idea.” He clearly can’t get away fast enough, judging by the way he strides off with Gamora on his heels.

Quill looks at Yondu. “Don’t let him get to you, okay? I think he’s trying. He’s just...really bad at it.”

“You know who’s _really bad_ at cheering people up?” snaps Rocket. “Oh, right. You!”

Quill flips him off. “Don’t think I didn’t notice how quiet and weird you were the whole flight back. But quit picking fights with my grandpa, okay?”

Yondu’s eyes bug out of his head. “What the— _grandpa?_ Quill, what the hell?! Don’chu let him hear you sayin’ that!”

And shit, watching Quill and Yondu flap at each other is almost enough to put Rocket back in a good mood.

—

When Kraglin gets back to their room that night, Rocket grins at him from the bed. “Oh, Denarian Obfonteri, I’ve been a bad, bad boy!” he says dramatically as Yondu cracks up next to him.

Kraglin stops dead and blinks.

“Well? Aren’t you gonna frisk me, officer?” Rocket bats his eyes. 

“How’d you find out about that?” Kraglin sighs, slumping onto the bed where Yondu’s still laughing.

“Blame Quill. He’s the one who started checking over everyone’s criminal pasts to get them all cleared.” Rocket grins. “You were wanted for deserting.”

“I know.” Kraglin frowns at the bandages covering Rocket’s upper arms. “What happened?”

“Nothin’ I wanna talk about right now.” Rocket bats his eyes again because he knows Kraglin thinks it’s cute. “I’d rather think about seventeen-year-old you in a Nova uniform, all little and uncorrupted.”

Kraglin’s neck flushes purple. “Weren’t exactly innocent,” he mumbles.

“Nah, you weren’t.” Yondu smirks. “I found him in an alleyway kickin’ the shit outta some o’ them other Nova trainees. Never did find out what they said to ya.”

“Don’t matter.” Kraglin shrugs. “You ain’t hurt bad?” he asks Rocket.

“I told you, it’s nothing.” Rocket wants to fuck. He’s keyed up and he needs to either get laid or blow something up. “They ever give you handcuffs with the uniform?”

Kraglin eyes him. “You been arrested enough times it shouldn’t really be sexy,” he points out.

Rocket rolls his eyes. “I’m not going for _realism_ here. Besides, maybe I was thinking of resisting arrest.”

“That don’t exactly sound like somethin’ outside your realm of experience either.” Kraglin rolls his eyes right back. “I only signed up t’ get off the streets, Rocket. Wasn’t like I enjoyed it.”

“Quit spoiling my fantasy,” Rocket grumps. He finally just crawls into Kraglin’s lap and pushes him onto his back. “I’m tryin’ to get laid here.”

Kraglin looks at his bandaged arms, then at his face. “Right. You gonna come quietly?”

“I honestly doubt any of us are coming quietly.” Rocket glances at Yondu and smirks. “Hey boss, looks like we got ourselves a baby Nova. Whattaya think we oughta do with him?”

Yondu catches on quick enough. “Well,” he says slowly, eyeing Kraglin as he stretches out the word, “I reckon he’s tryin’ t’ arrest ya. Or he was, ‘fore you got him on his back.”

“Yeah.” Rocket looks Kraglin over, trying to see past the tattoos and the beard to imagine a clean-cut kid straight from training. “Look at him, though. He’s awful pretty.”

Yondu leans over, taking in Kraglin’s increasingly blotchy face. “I’ll be damned. He sure is. Lookit them big blue eyes.”

Rocket leers when he feels Kraglin squirm under him. He’s strong enough to hold the guy down, even if that isn’t something they’ve done. “Yeah. Pretty eyes and a cocksucker’s mouth? I might wanna keep you, Nova boy.”

“Don’t call me that,” mumbles Kraglin, but his pupils are blown and Rocket can smell the interest coming off him. 

“No? You like _baby_ better?” Rocket leans down and puts his face close to Kraglin’s. “Or _slut?_ ”

Kraglin’s throat bobs. “How about _officer?_ ” he snaps.

Yondu gives a dirty chuckle. “You wan’ me t’ cooperate, _officer?_ ” he asks, reaching down to rub his dick through the leather pants. “Got somethin’ for you.”

Rocket watches Kraglin’s eyes flicker down. “Yeah, he wouldn’t mind gettin’ some of that. Probably right between those pretty lips, isn’t that right, baby?”

“I-I’m gonna have t’ bring ya both in if ya don’t comply with—” Kraglin’s protest is cut off with a gasp as Rocket licks a hot stripe up his neck.

“I didn’t understand that, officer,” he says mildly when he looks at Kraglin again.

Kraglin’s face is a deep purple that should probably be unattractive. Rocket thinks it’s flarking adorable. His hands are twitching at his sides like he’s not sure what to do with them.

Normally, Kraglin’s all sleek lines and dark promises in the bedroom, but now he’s blushing up at Rocket with wide eyes.

Rocket wants to eat him alive.

So he licks Kraglin’s cheek, ghosting past his lips as hair scrapes under his tongue. “You taste good, pretty boy,” he whispers. 

And he don’t even know where this stupid thing is coming from, but Yondu’s reaching over to pluck at the straps and zippers on Kraglin’s jumpsuit, and Kraglin’s squirming like he’s torn between going with it and pulling away.

“I-I’m not jokin’ around here,” he stutters. “‘M gonna have t’ book ya for...public indecency.” 

Rocket catches Yondu’s eye and tries not to laugh. _Public indecency?_ he mouths.

Yondu snorts. “If we’s about t’ do the time, I reckon we oughta actually deserve it. You want some public indecency, darlin’?” He tugs Kraglin’s head back by the hair and kisses him hard, leaving that pale throat exposed.

Rocket can’t help himself; he can see Kraglin’s pulse fluttering in his neck and it’s like a beacon. He’s got his mouth closed around it before he can think, teeth digging into the tender skin.

Kraglin freezes, muscles tensing up, and Rocket likes that. Probably more than he should. 

He licks over Kraglin’s pulse, tasting the skin there and getting a muffled noise as a reward. Kraglin’s little moan vibrates under his tongue, and so maybe Rocket’s riding a power trip, but he’s having fun. He bites down, just a little, and feels Kraglin tremble.

A warm hand on the back of his head pulls him back.

“Easy now,” whispers Yondu, and Rocket lets go with a shaky breath.

Kraglin’s staring up at him with wide eyes, and his throat is marked with little blue points in the shape of Rocket’s teeth. 

“ _Fuck,_ ” Rocket breathes. He can’t take his eyes off it. Something primal in him swells triumphantly and his cock slides out of its sheath. “You’re mine, aren’t you?”

Kraglin keeps his eyes fixed on Rocket as he swallows. “I could be,” he allows, cautious, like he can’t tell what’s real anymore and what’s part of the game.

“Yeah, you could be.” Rocket leans over him again, rubbing his dick against Kraglin’s stomach. “I could do the nastiest, filthiest shit to you, you know. Things you never even thought about.”

“Yeah?” asks Kraglin in a weak voice. 

“Yeah.” Rocket grins. He presses his mouth right against Kraglin’s ear and whispers, “you wanna be my little whore? Beggin’ for me to use you like a toy?”

Kraglin’s breath catches. “Rocket—”

“—said it yourself, didn’t you? It feels good to be someone’s bitch sometimes. Let me fuck you, Kraglin.”

He ignores Yondu’s sharply drawn breath.

Kraglin stares at him, uncertainty and desire warring on his face. This isn’t something they do.

Rocket waits, and when Kraglin doesn’t answer, he says, a little desperately, “wanna show you how good it is. I’ll make it good, Kraglin. I’ll make it so good. I can—” He stops when he realizes he’s begging. 

“Okay,” says Kraglin softly.

Rocket stares down at him. 

And Kraglin gives him a crooked little smile that threatens to break him open. Rocket doesn’t know what his face does, but Kraglin leans up to kiss him real soft.

“Dirty me up, princess,” he whispers, and Rocket has to kiss him again.

He’s jittery and overeager, and now Yondu’s watching him like he expects things. Rocket’s gotta think quick, get this whole thing back on track before the high he’s riding dissolves. He wants to wreck Kraglin, have him mewling and shaking under him. 

And as he looks at Yondu, he knows Yondu gets it. Maybe even better than Rocket does. He inclines his head, telling Rocket without words that he’s willing to play along.

Rocket hasn’t cried since that weird sex incident with Kraglin while Yondu was gone, and he’s not gonna start now. He snarls and tears at his suit, flinging it to the side when he gets it off. “Everybody get naked. Now.”

That sets off a flurry of motion; Kraglin skins out of his jumpsuit without much fuss, and they both wait for Yondu to shuck the coat, the scarf, the shirt, the boots, _and_ the pants before he tosses his underwear onto the pile and climbs back on the bed. 

Rocket isn’t tapping his foot. He’s not.

“You,” he snaps at Kraglin, “get on your back and spread your legs. You-” he points at Yondu, “come here.”

Yondu listens easily enough, although he keeps watching Kraglin out of the corner of his eye. “So,” he says, “how we gonna do this?”

“I want him stuffed full at both ends. He’s gonna suck your cock while I fuck him.”

Kraglin makes a whining sound. Rocket reaches out and pets his calf.

“And maybe,” he adds, like it’s an afterthought, “you can sit on his dick if I can’t make him come just from my cock.”

Yondu’s eyes drop to Rocket’s dick, which is already wet and hard just from the thought of what they’re planning to do. “I doubt he’s gonna have that problem.”

Rocket shrugs. “Not every guy can get there without someone touching his dick. Now go on and fuck that pretty face of his.”

“That an order?” Yondu asks with a leer.

“Might be. You wanna test me?” God help him, part of Rocket hopes he does. It’s a violent, ugly little part of himself that he doesn’t want getting in here with them.

But Yondu just quirks an eyebrow. “Easy there, boy,” he says softly. “This ain’t a challenge.”

Rocket lets out a breath. Kraglin’s watching him, probably noticing more than Rocket would like him to. Rocket avoids his eye and crawls between his spread thighs.

He smells so good here, musky and thick, and Rocket bends down to lick Kraglin’s balls before he can second guess himself. The skin is silky, and the fine hairs crinkle under his tongue. He wishes he could fit everything in his mouth, but he can’t, so he tries to be as messy as possible, the way Kraglin likes.

And he does like it, if the hitching little moans he’s making are any indication. Spit trails down between his asscheeks, and Rocket follows it with his tongue, lapping over Kraglin’s hole and shivering at the shocked cry it gets him.

“What, hasn’t anyone ever done this to you before?” he asks, raising his head. “You’re moaning like it’s the first time.”

Kraglin’s blotchy flush goes all the way down to his chest. He gulps, “I—I done it t’ other people before.”

Rocket stares at him. And then he looks at Yondu. “Thirty years you been fuckin’ each other and you never licked his asshole? What the hell, man?”

Yondu has the gall to act surprised. “How many times you think we fucked, exactly?” he snaps.

“I know it was more than once!”

“Four,” says Kraglin softly. 

Rocket blinks. “Four times in thirty years,” he repeats flatly. 

Yondu nods, brow furrowed like he’s trying to remember details. “Yeah, tha’s gotta be right.”

“And you never ate him out?” Rocket finds this hard to believe.

Yondu shrugs. “Wasn’t like they was long, leisurely fucks.”

“We were usually drunk,” Kraglin adds.

“Of course you were,” Rocket mutters. “And none of the other schmucks you boned did it either?”

“I didn’t let none o’ _them_ touch my ass,” says Kraglin indignantly.

Rocket gives up and ducks his head again, smirking when Kraglin honest-to-god yells. Rocket licks him hard, flickering his tongue against Kraglin’s hole before pushing the very tip inside. 

Kraglin shoves back so hard Rocket has to back up. “Okay, you’re ready.” 

“Good,” mutters Yondu; he’s been jerking himself off real gently, watching Rocket play with Kraglin, and now he reaches out to tip Kraglin’s head back. “Open up, darlin’.”

Kraglin opens his mouth, stretching his neck prettily as he strains to get at Yondu’s cock. Rocket watches Yondu feed it to him, mesmerized by how greedy Kraglin is for it. He moans softly around Yondu’s cock, and the wet slurping sounds he’s making are obscene.

Rocket glances down at how hard Kraglin is, and gives into the urge to run a claw down the underside just to see his cock jump. Kraglin’s startled moan is music to his ears.

“Bet that feels good,” he says. “You’re all worked up, aren’t you? Got a cock in your mouth and someone playin’ with your ass. Now you know why we like it so much.”

Kraglin makes a muffled sound and then gags as Yondu presses forward.

“Shit.” Rocket licks his lips and lines up. “You look real good like this, you know. You want it so bad, don’t you?” He rubs the tip of his cock back and forth across Kraglin’s hole, watching it twitch.

“Now yer just bein’ mean,” Yondu tells him; he’s cradling Kraglin’s face in his hands as he eases his cock further down his throat. 

“I think it turns him on when I’m mean,” says Rocket. “How about it, Kraglin? You like me when I’m bossy?”

Kraglin moans loudly and lifts his hips, trying to get more contact with Rocket.

Rocket pets his inner thighs. “Okay, okay. You been real good for me, after all.” He pushes in.

Kraglin’s body temperature is slightly warmer than Yondu’s, and his skin is hairy where Yondu is smooth. But fucking him is amazing in its own way; this is special, that Kraglin’s letting him have this.

His mouth’s running before he can stop it, babbling filth as he fucks into Kraglin with rabbity little thrusts. “Shit, you feel so good. Been holdin’ out on me, baby, sweet little ass like this just _made_ for my cock.”

Kraglin makes a high, needy sound around Yondu’s dick, which in turn makes Yondu groan. “You got a dirty mouth, boy,” Yondu pants. “Lookit how hard it gets him.”

“Yeah, it does.” Rocket grins as he drags his cock across Kraglin’s prostate and makes him jerk. 

Yondu pulls back, shivering. “Damn, Krags,” he mutters as he strokes Kraglin’s face. “I ain’t gonna last long if you keep that up.”

Kraglin opens his mouth to answer, but Rocket thrusts in hard and it turns into a harsh cry. He shoves back onto Rocket’s cock. “I ain’t gonna last neither,” he whines, opening his mouth. 

“Ah hell,” says Yondu weakly, and he slides back in.

Rocket shifts his angle just a little, and grins viciously when Kraglin wails at the contact with his prostate. He pushes Kraglin’s thighs further apart, stroking rough hands over the delicate skin of his inner thighs. “Bet you’d come right now if I touched your cock,” he growls. “You would, wouldn’t you? Spill all over yourself because you love this. Good thing you’re gagging him, Yondu. I bet the whole ship could hear his mewling if you weren’t.”

“Shit,” gasps Yondu, spreading his thighs a little wider and looking down at Kraglin. “Krags, if you don’t want it down yer throat, say it now.”

Kraglin’s hands are lightning fast as they come up to grab Yondu’s hips and pin him in place. Rocket’s breath catches as he watches Yondu struggle for a moment before his mouth falls open and he comes with a loud, shaky moan.

“ _Fuck..._ ” Rocket slows down, letting Yondu pull back. Yondu gives Kraglin’s cheek a little pat and settles himself alongside them. His chest is heaving and his cock flops wetly against his thigh, but he still manages to give Rocket a saucy wink.

Rocket doesn’t blush, shut up.

He looks at Kraglin instead, and damn if that’s not a pretty picture. His mouth is hanging open and fuck, his face is so wet. Rocket greedily looks over the purple flush of his skin and the way his lashes flutter when he closes his eyes and rocks back onto Rocket’s dick.

“C’mon, move,” he says, and his voice is _wrecked._

And Rocket’s helpless to do anything else. He puts his back into it, fucking breathy noises out of Kraglin. He’s getting close, can’t help it with the way Kraglin moans and clenches around him. He knows his dick is skinny, knows it’s not really much of a stretch, but Kraglin feels tighter than anything Rocket’s ever shoved his dick into. That should make him gentle, but it does the opposite; he rams into Kraglin with a vicious determination usually reserved for the battlefield.

Kraglin bucks back, whole body arching as he tries to get Rocket deeper, and that does it. Rocket comes with a feral snarl and pushes in deep. He can’t explain why but he _needs_ to fill Kraglin up like this. Mark him as claimed.

He catches his breath and realizes he’s got his claws dug into Kraglin’s inner thighs. There’s blood under his nails and Kraglin’s reedy panting fills his ears.

Yondu reaches out, probably to touch Kraglin’s dick, but Rocket snarls and snaps at his fingers. This is _his._ He pulls out, ignoring the little noise Kraglin makes, and bends down to get his mouth on him. 

He’s so hard, cock throbbing under Rocket’s tongue, and it doesn’t take more than a few good licks to push him over. Rocket closes his eyes and lets Kraglin come all over his face. A few spurts hit his tongue and it finally settles him enough that he sits back on his haunches to groom himself.

“So,” Kraglin croaks after awhile, “you gonna tell me what th’ hell that was about? Not that it weren’t fun.”

Rocket glances up, tongue out and paw raised. They’re both giving him serious looks and he don’t like it. “What?”

Yondu looks unimpressed. He shifts Kraglin’s head into his lap and strokes his hair. 

Kraglin uses his new vantage point to study Rocket. “If you don’t wanna talk about it, that’s one thing. But I ain’t stupid. Don’t treat me like I am.”

Rocket lowers his paw. “I’m not treating you like you’re stupid,” he mutters. “And it ain’t—” He looks at Yondu.

“What he’s tryin’ t’ say issat he saw one o’ them scientists who made him.” Yondu’s face is grim.

Kraglin pushes up onto his elbows. “What?”

Rocket looks down at his hands. He can’t meet Kraglin’s eyes.

“Who else knows?” Kraglin looks between Rocket and Yondu.

“Drax was there with us.” Rocket really hates how small his voice sounds.

“So just us an’ Drax?” 

“Yeah, Kraglin,” sighs Yondu. “Jus’ us an’ Drax.” He runs his big hand over Kraglin’s head, smoothing the edges of his mohawk. 

Kraglin is watching Rocket, but Rocket doesn’t look back. He doesn’t want to see pity or any shit like that from Kraglin. He raises his paw again and finishes cleaning the last of Kraglin’s come off his face.

“Tell me what ya need me to do,” says Kraglin after a minute. 

“I need you to get off my back about it.” Rocket gives them both a pointed look. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do yet.”

“C’mere,” Yondu says. 

Rocket eyes him, forcing himself to remember that this is Yondu. Yondu ain’t judging Rocket, because they’re the same. Yondu gets it, better than almost everyone. 

And why is he holding out, anyway? He’ll be damned if he lets her poison this. 

Yondu curls an arm around him when he settles against his chest, stroking callused fingers through his fur. He avoids the bald patch on Rocket’s back out of habit, skipping over it to rest his hand on Rocket’s nape. 

Rocket closes his eyes and lets himself relax, just a little. 

Kraglin’s hand joins Yondu’s, skimming over his lower back and resting just above his tail. 

“Thanks,” he mumbles, tucking his head under Yondu’s chin. He gets a grunt in response.

It smells safe here, tucked between them, but the memory of her carefree smile keeps circling around his brain. He pokes at it like a bruise, over and over until it’s sore. How happy she looked.

It’s a long time before he gets to sleep.

—

He wakes up in the middle of the night, ears ringing with the echoes of buzzsaws and his own screams. He’s drenched in sweat, panting and shaking, and he’s amazed he didn’t thrash and kick anyone in his sleep. 

He hasn’t dreamt about Halfworld in awhile.

Rocket tugs at his face, needing the sharp sting to ground him. Real pain is usually enough to get rid of the phantom aches that flare up whenever the dreams get bad. This one was really bad. 

His joints ache like an old man’s as he crawls out of bed, careful not to disturb Kraglin. God knows Yondu’s snoring loud enough to drown Rocket out even if he started screaming in his sleep.

It’s been a long time since he’s done that, though.

He escapes into the bathroom and splashes cold water on his face. One of them—Kraglin, probably—got a stool for Rocket to stand on when he’s at the sink. It’s the sort of thoughtful shit that sets his teeth on edge, because he hates that he needs it.

His reflection stares hatefully back at him. It’s an animal’s face, with its twitching muzzle and sharp teeth. Most days he tries not to look too closely at himself. Ain’t like he needs the reminder that he’s a hodgepodge stitched together and held up by cybernetics. He still remembers when they cut his original limbs off. 

What the hell makes Yondu and Kraglin wanna fuck him, anyway? _He_ wouldn’t wanna fuck him. Claws on his hands and a mouth that can’t kiss right. And he pretends like hell not to know what Quill’s talking about, but Ryback is Terran too; he knows he’s a raccoon.

Rocket has to look away before he shatters the mirror. All his big talk about immunity was bullshit; Ryback needs to die.

Yondu and Kraglin might be light sleepers, but Rocket’s stealthy. He grabs his suit in the dark and is out the door as soon as he pulls it on, plans already racing through his head.

—

Nebula isn’t too surprised about Nova Prime’s decision. If anything, she seems annoyed with Gamora for trying to push it through.

“I don’t need her help,” she growls at Rocket while he works on his newest toy.

“Quit bitchin’, Blue,” he tells her, fiddling with the inputs on the gun. It left plasma traces when he fired it at Stakar’s test range early this morning, and that don’t suit Rocket at all. “We both know you like it when she gets all fussy.”

“I do not.”

“You sound like Groot when you do that sulky kid thing.” Rocket gives her an obnoxious grin.

He ain’t sure when Nebula picked up the middle finger, but it makes him laugh.

“Think about it from a tactical point of view,” he says. “I know that ain’t your strong suit, but try. We put up with the Nova Corps because they give us things. Like equipment and immunity. When there are Kree purists and those psycho Sovereign out there tryin’ to kill us, we need all the help we can get.” 

“What is your point?” she growls.

“My point is that you can use all that crap too. Don’t turn down good help just because you’re proud.”

“‘M gonna remember that next time ya won’t let me reach stuff on the top shelf,” comes Kraglin’s voice from the doorway.

Rocket makes a face at him. Kraglin found him on the range this morning. He didn’t say anything, but didn’t leave either until the technicians called about some issues with the Quadrant.

Normally that shit would be right up Rocket’s alley, but he’s busy.

Kraglin edges further into the room and comes to peer over Rocket’s shoulder. “How’s the gun comin’?” 

“Still spewing,” Rocket mutters. “But not for long. This bitch ain’t gonna leave a trace when I’m done with it.”

“Planning to assassinate someone?” asks Nebula wryly.

Rocket wants to kick Kraglin when the big idiot gives him a guilty look. Instead he says, “obviously, but don’t tell Denarian Obfonteri here, he might turn me in.”

Kraglin turns deep purple. “Get fucked, Rocket!”

Nebula just stares at them.

Rocket clears his throat and turns back to his gun. “I may or may not have a list of people I want dead. You can relate, right?”

“You know I can.” Nebula tilts her head. “Why? Do you need help?”

“Nope.” Rocket flashes her a toothy grin. “Got it covered. You just worry about getting that immunity.”

She growls at him, which he figures means they’re back to normal.

He’s just gonna tuck away the warm fuzzy feeling he got when she offered to help him. 

—

“Don’t do that again,” says Kraglin darkly, later in the day.

Nebula’s gone, dragged away by Groot and a very shy Mantis to do who knows what. So it’s just him and Kraglin alone in the room.

They’d been working in comfortable silence until now. 

“Do what?” asks Rocket. He thinks he’s got the plasma diffuser finally figured out.

“That Denarian shit you said earlier. Cut it out.”

Rocket realizes he’s using his serious voice; he puts the diffuser down and turns on his stool. “I didn’t mean anything by it, Kraglin. Chill.”

Kraglin levels him with a look. He’s leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, brow furrowed a little bit. “I don’t use the shit you been through as a joke,” he finally says. “Wouldn’t do that t’ you. Maybe I ain’t been anywhere near as bad as you or the cap’n, but no one joins the Ravagers ‘cause life was good to ‘em. Get me?”

And fuck if that doesn’t make Rocket feel like shit.

“I get you,” he says after a minute, unable to meet Kraglin’s eyes. He feels bad and it pisses him off.

“An’ you can fuck me mean if that’s what ya need t’ do, but ya don’t get t’ use it against me out here.”

“Okay!” Rocket shouts. “I get it! I’m an asshole! Glad you finally got the memo. Should’ve asked Quill for references before you let Yondu bring me home.”

Kraglin stares at him. “Fine,” he says softly. “Come talk t’ me when you decide t’ quit bein’ a dick.” He turns to go. “An’ one more thing.”

“What?” snarls Rocket.

“If anyone else tried talkin’ t’ me like you just did, I’d slit their throat. Don’t forget that.” And he’s gone.

Rocket stares at the empty doorway for a long time before raising a paw to his mouth.

—

Rocket can’t stop thinking about her. 

The rest of his life gets pushed to the back. He starts sleeping in the makeshift workshop, skipping meals unless Mantis and Groot (or less often, Nebula) bring him food and lure him away from the plasma diffuser. Nebula was right; it’s an assassin’s gun, meant to be untraceable to whatever Nova turd investigates her murder. He needs it done before he can take her out.

And yeah, he’s gonna kill her. He’s not sure why he feels the need to be so secretive about it, when everyone who knows him can figure it out in a heartbeat.

When he looks her up on the holonet, he finds out she’s a professor at one of the top universities on Xandar. She even publishes articles under her own name.

He reads them obsessively, hunting for traces of himself in her work. It’s there, if you know where to look, and Rocket knows everything she wanted from him. She found most of it, usually while he was twitching under the gas they’d dose him with if he got too uppity. 

There’s nothing he can find to tie her to Halfworld. She’s covered her tracks too well. Rocket would be impressed, if he didn’t hate her so fucking much.

It doesn’t matter if the public ever finds out what she’s done, he decides. She’s been a dead woman walking since he spotted her. 

He hasn’t seen Kraglin since they fought.

Yondu’s made himself scarce too, and Rocket wonders if it’s because he’s pissed or because he’s giving Rocket space. Or both. Could be both. Not like Rocket’s fit company for anyone these days.

It’s Gamora who finally intervenes, striding into the workshop with a determined set to her jaw.

“This is ridiculous,” she says.

Rocket glances at her, then goes back to the gun.

She takes a seat across from him and snatches it out of his hands. “Stop it. Listen when I’m talking.”

He snarls at her.

It gets him a raised eyebrow and a cool look. “Are you finished? I have all day.”

Now that Rocket looks at her properly, he thinks she’s wearing different clothes than she was at breakfast. He’s not sure if that means she changed or if he’s lost track of the days.

Gamora rests her elbows on the table. After a pause, she says, “I don’t have to know what happened on Xandar. What I do know is that you’ve been different since you got back. You’re in here constantly. You made Mantis cry when she tried to get you to eat. Yondu said you don’t even sleep in your room anymore. Kraglin won’t talk about you at all, and Groot’s worried.”

Guilt starts to creep into Rocket’s gut like twisting ropes, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Drax knows,” Gamora continues, “but he said I should ask you if I want the whole story. Do you want to tell me?”

“Not particularly,” he mutters.

“Okay. This, though? This needs to change. It’s not just Groot, we’re _all_ worried about you.” No one who’s done the things Gamora has should have eyes that big and soft. For a second Rocket sees why Quill wants her like he does.

“I got this under control,” he lies halfheartedly, looking away.

Gamora’s eyebrow twitches. “Whoever you need to kill,” she says, “are they worth this?”

“Ain’t about that,” he finally says.

She tilts her head. “Then what is it?”

“I— look.” Rocket sighs. “You know how Nebula’s gotta kill your dad? This is like that. I gotta do this. She’s—” he struggles to put into words how it felt to learn this. “She’s got a normal life now. I was stuck collection’ bounties with no one but Groot, tryin’ to keep food on the table, living in fucking _dumpsters,_ and she’s got a comfy day job. That ain’t right.”

“No,” Gamora says softly, “it’s not. But you’re going to kill her. Problem solved.”

“You ain’t that naive,” Rocket growls. “And don’t try that shit on your sister either. She might actually shoot you.”

“At some point,” Gamora says loudly to cut him off, “you have to decide that living in the now is more important than anything in your past. We all get in our own way sometimes, Rocket.” She reaches across the table and takes his hand in one of hers. “Don’t forget that we’re stronger together. Let us help you.”

Rocket stares at their hands. Gamora’s right, but the truth of that burns going down. Means he’s been a shithead and he’s gonna have to eat crow.

And after Kraglin trusted him enough to roll over, too. He’s in such deep shit, and worse, he deserves it.

“Groot’s really worried?” he asks quietly.

“He said you didn’t even look up the last time he came to see you.”

Rocket swallows. “You never wanted to go back for revenge?”

“Of course I did. Nebula does. But the situation isn’t exactly the same, Rocket. When the time comes...it’s going to take all of us to kill Thanos. If we even can. One woman? That we can do.” Gamora squeezers Rocket’s hand, but gently. He can feel the gentle whir of her cybernetics under the skin, vibrating on a slightly different frequency than his.

“What about our immunity? Nova Prime ain’t screwing around with that, and we’ve gotta think about Nebula.” 

Gamora’s lips twitch. “Rocket. You’re developing a weapon that leaves no plasma signature, and you have two of the best assassins in the galaxy at your disposal. No one is going to trace this back to you.”

She’s smiling, but there’s steel in her voice, and just like it’s sometimes easy to forget that Quill’s not actually an idiot, it’s also easy to forget what Gamora’s capable of. Familiarity breeds contempt, or something.

“Guess I’d better go shower then,” he says. He can smell himself now that he pays attention. It ain’t great.

“Yes,” Gamora agrees. “Although god knows Yondu and Kraglin probably won’t care.” She wrinkles her nose.

“Watch it. I kinda like how they smell.”

—

Rocket trudges down the corridor that leads to his room, prepping himself for the inevitable groveling he’s gonna have to do when he gets in there. He’s genuinely fearful about the state of his pillow. 

He’s not expecting the door to open and Stakar freakin’ Ogord to step out. 

Now he’s self-conscious about being smelly.

Stakar spots him and nods. “Rocket, right?” This is only the fourth time they’ve spoken. 

Rocket wonders what Yondu’s said about him to Stakar. “Yeah. Hi. What’re you doing here?”

Stakar looks amused. “It’s my ship, kid. An’ I hear you’ve been cannibalizing bits of it for some project.”

Rocket tenses.

“Mind tellin’ me what’s so important that you gotta rip out the wiring on deck eleven?”

Rocket’s hackles go up. “If I can get it working I’ll make you a second one. That’s all you’re getting.” He’s still touchy about anyone knowing what he’s planning, and all he wants to do is curl up with Kraglin and Yondu.

“Whoa, easy there.” Stakar puts a hand up. “You don’t gotta bite my head off.”

Rocket stares up at him suspiciously.

Stakar sighs. “Look, I caught you at a bad time. Obfonteri threw me out an’ I don’t really wanna fight with both Yondu’s boys tonight. You go get some sleep, looks like ya need it. I’ll catch you around. Maybe you can show me whatever you’re working on, if you want.”

He’s being too nice and it’s weird. “What’s got you bein’ all fatherly all of a sudden? Yondu been avoiding you?”

Stakar’s expression doesn’t change so much as it freezes on his face, and that’s all Rocket needs to know. 

He sighs. “I told him goin’ on the job was stupid. Shoulda just met at a bar like normal people.”

“Well, Yondu and normal never really got acquainted,” says Stakar wryly. “But yeah, he’s been avoiding me. Came here hopin’ we could get a drink, maybe change that. Walked in on him an’ Obfonteri havin’ a domestic instead.”

Rocket’s head snaps up. “They’re fighting?”

“Sure looked like it. Didn’t see much.” Stakar rolls his eyes. “Too busy gettin’ booted out of a room on my own damn ship.”

“I should go talk to ‘em.” Rocket darts past Stakar.

“Hey, Rocket?”

He pauses with his hand hovering over the lock. 

“If you wanna get a drink, get to know each other,” says Stakar a little too casually, “my room’s on deck nine.”

Rocket turns and raises an eyebrow that he hopes conveys all his opinions about that.

Stakar clears his throat. “It’s just. You’re the reason I got him back.”

“He coulda been yours the whole time,” says Rocket blankly.

Stakar actually winces. “See you around, kid.” He walks away, broad shoulders taking up the whole corridor until he turns and disappears from sight.

Rocket shakes his head and steps into their quarters.

Kraglin and Yondu are sitting side by side on the bed, shoulders close together, so they can’t be fighting too bad. They both look at him as he shuts the door behind him.

Well, this is awkward. “Hey,” he says, scuffing his toes on the floor. 

Yondu cocks his head and crosses his arms. “Which one of ‘em talked sense into you?”

“Gamora.” 

Yondu nods. “Ya know,” he says thoughtfully, “I wiped out two o’ the elite blue-skinned Kree families after I got my arrow. Adults, kids—I didn’t give a shit. None of ‘em gave a damn ‘bout me when I was a kid. I killed my masters an’ their whole stinkin’ families. ‘S why I’m wanted in so many provinces.”

Rocket looks up to see those red eyes boring into him.

“Didn’ make nothin’ better,” Yondu confesses. “Felt real good, but it ain’t gonna give you back anythin’ but a little measure o’ peace that they can’t hurt no one else like they did you.”

“That’s a measure of peace I fucking need,” whispers Rocket.

“We know,” says Kraglin. His voice seems loud after Yondu’s soft confession. “We get it. So why you gotta be such a prick?”

Rocket wants to hold him. Wishes he was big enough to wrap Kraglin up in his arms. Bile rises in his throat, and all at once he’s furious again. Hot rage makes him pace, tail swishing back and forth.

“I ain’t tryin’ to be a dick,” he snaps. “I don’t want this touchin’ you at all. Either of you.” He casts around for the words. “I don’t _like_ who I am, okay? Or what I am. I’m—”

“Don’chu say it,” snaps Yondu. When Rocket snarls he points a finger at him. “Don’chu say a single one o’ them nasty words you was thinkin’. Ain’t one of ‘em true.”

Rocket’s breathing hard and he hasn’t even done anything. “But that’s what I feel like.” He tugs helplessly at the fur on his face. “Look, it’s been...better, lately, okay? You guys make it better.”

Kraglin’s hands clench where he’s resting them on his thighs.

“But no matter what you do, I’m always gonna be a furry little rat freak.” Rocket bows his head. “I got a mirror. I know, okay? An’ I thought it was fine, but she—her bein’ around, it brings back shit I never wanted to see again.”

“Yer given’ this bitch way too much power,” says Yondu softly. “She don’t get t’ take _nothin’_ from you.”

Kraglin finally cracks; he slides off the bed and kneels next to Rocket, pulling his hands away from his face.

Rocket freezes, blinking at him. He lets Kraglin cover his own tiny hands with his big ones, mostly because he’s too shocked at his own response to stop him.

This is _Kraglin_ ; Kraglin touching him shouldn’t make Rocket uncomfortable. But god help him, he nearly snapped at him.

He sighs and pushes it down, relaxing his shoulders through force of will. He don’t wanna make it weird and hurt Kraglin’s feelings anymore than he already has.

That’s why he’s been avoiding them. He can’t carry on acting like a normal person with normal relationships when he feels like a demented animal. Hell, he barely knows why he does what he does on a good day, but now? He’s running on instinct and trauma, probably, and if he doesn’t kill her soon it’s gonna blow up in his face.

Both Kraglin and Yondu are watching him, so he forces a smile. “I ain’t good company now,” he tells them, Kraglin especially. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. That was shitty, and I don’t blame you for bein’ pissed.”

Kraglin gives him a wobbly smile. “I wasn’t mad for too long. Just kinda concerned, ya know?”

“Yeah.” Rocket looks down.

It feels weird to be back here, where everything smells like them. Should be homey and safe, but Rocket can smell days’ worth of stress sweat settled into the bed, and he knows it’s his fault.

Sure, they keep telling him it’s fine, and he believes them to an extent, but he don’t know how to say it ain’t them he’s worried about. Rocket knows full well how mean he can be when he gets backed into a corner.

There’s a niggling little tick in the animal part of his brain that tells him not to bring bad shit back to the den.

Rocket’s _covered_ in bad shit right now. Showering ain’t gonna do jack to clean it off. 

But it’s a start. “‘M gonna shower,” he mutters to Kraglin, and pulls his hands back.

Kraglin nods. Normally he’d offer to join, but not now.

Rocket flashes him a tired smile and flees into the head.

The warm water feels good, but it doesn’t wash off the feeling of wrongness that’s clung to his fur since this whole mess started. He leans against the wall, hardware in his back scraping against the tiles. It’s another nasty little reminder, and Rocket’s sick of it. 

It’s time to end this. Maybe that little measure of peace will do more good for him than it did for Yondu.

—

It takes him another three days to get the gun working right. None of the Ravagers come to stop him from stealing their scrap, so he’s gonna use Ogord’s goodwill up until it’s gone. 

Nebula sits with him more often than not. She keeps quiet, handing him tools or tweaking her cybernetics. 

On the second day, he sees her switch out her hand for a newer model and asks, “were you awake when they did it?”

She pauses before setting the hand down. “It was a punishment,” she says. “Of course I was awake.”

“Me too,” he says. “Never could decide which was worse, that or waking up after, not knowing what they changed.”

Nebula’s jaw tightens. “The worst part was just before it happened. The waiting.”

“Yeah,” he agrees tonelessly.

She looks at him, and maybe it makes Rocket a terrible person, but he’s glad there’s someone who’s been through it too. Her eyes flit to the gun, and she nods. “It’ll feel good when it’s done.”

He knows she’s not talking about his tinkering. “Bet your ass it will.”

—

The capital city is just edging into its night cycle when he packs Quill’s purse full of the stuff he thinks he’ll need. It’s not much. Aside from the new jumpsuit that covers him head to feet, he don’t have any fancy equipment. 

He’s not gonna draw this out.

After a final check, he slings the bag over his shoulder and heads for the hallway.

Nebula’s leaning against the door when he steps through it; she falls into step beside him and he doesn’t stop her.

They don’t talk as they make their way to the hangar. Anyone who looks too long gets a nasty glare from Nebula, which sends them scampering off. Rocket finds he doesn’t care too much if they tell Stakar. Ain’t like the Ravagers are squeamish about a little homicide, after all.

What Rocket’s not expecting is the M-ship all prepped for launch and waiting. No one’s around, but Rocket can smell the other Guardians if he sniffs hard enough. Something swells in his chest that he can’t name.

Nebula throws herself into the pilot’s seat. She still doesn’t talk, but her brisk movements tell Rocket she’s keyed up too. 

“It’s dangerous for you to go walkin’ around on Xandar,” he says quietly, breaking their silence as the M-ship glides out into the black.

She doesn’t look at him. “Someday, when I need a favor, I fully expect you to reciprocate.”

They pivot and set course for the capital. Rocket stares at the planet’s surface as it grows in their viewscreen. He thinks about everything she’s not saying and nods.

—

In the end, it’s a quiet affair.

Most people who live in the city center are in the high rise apartment buildings. They’re bright and new, all glass and white gleaming surfaces. Lots of neighbors.

Elizabeth Ryback lives on the thirty-ninth floor of the one closest to the university’s science building. She’s still teaching her evening class when Rocket picks the lock and lets himself in.

Nebula casually leans against the wall, keeping an eye out for any nosy neighbors. She’s gonna act as lookout until it’s done, and then she’ll get to the ship and swing by to pick up Rocket.

There won’t be any trace of either of them in the apartment.

Ryback’s living room is depressingly normal; there are a fuckton of books, a dying houseplant, and a collection of Terran music that makes Rocket’s fingers itch. He remembers her classical shit, nothing good like Quill listens to.

He pulls up the hood. It’s stifling, but the more of his fur he keeps covered, the less likely he is to shed on something for the Nova Corps to find. He’s even got his tail covered.

He turns and nods to Nebula; she nods back and then disappears, closing the door behind her.

Rocket sits down to wait, gun in his lap.

It’s about half an hour before the lock disengages; she steps through, digging through her bag and humming to herself. She pulls out a card with a triumphant noise, and then she sees Rocket.

“Hey Liz,” he tells her.

She doesn’t exactly freeze; just stills and lets out a soft breath. A resigned smile flits across her face. “I always wondered if you’d come for me.”

“Here I am.”

She puts her bag down, keeping him in her range of vision. “Can I sit down?”

“It’s your house.” Rocket watches her narrowly as she lowers herself into the armchair across from his. 

“I saw you, on the holos,” she says. “When Ronan the Accuser attacked us.”

“Did you,” he says flatly.

“It really was remarkable, what you accomplished. Holding an Infinity Stone?” She shakes her head. “I have to say, I’m impressed.”

“Never figured I’d go that far when you picked me outta the litter?” Rocket’s lip curls.

She huffs a laugh. “You know, I always wondered about that. What if I had picked one of your sisters. You showed the most intelligence, but that came with a cost. We might still have Halfworld if we’d gone with the more biddable kit.”

“Hindsight’s a bitch,” he agrees. “And now here we are.”

“Here we are,” she echoes. Her eyes flicker to the gun in his hands. “Do your Guardians know you’re here?”

Something about the way she says it makes his hackles rise. “Ain’t _my_ Guardians. An’ yeah. They all know I’m here.”

“I thought the defenders of the universe would be a little less blasé about cold-blooded murder,” she remarks.

“You clearly don’t know us. Ravagers and the daughters of Thanos? Of course we kill people.”

“You still have that big tree with you? Groot?”

Rocket’s chest spasms; there’s no other word for it. “You don’t get to talk about Groot.”

Her lips curve like she’s scored a point. “I’ll take that as a no. Shame, he was the last of his species.”

“I said shut up!” Rocket’s on his feet, gun leveled at her chest.

She freezes then, eyes dropping from his face to the gun.

Rocket’s breathing hard, glaring at her sudden fear, when she hadn’t been more than a little concerned until just now. “You don’t think I’ll do it.”

“I know you’ll do it.” Her gaze moves back to his face. “You always did have a temper. Got that from me, I guess.”

He sneers. “You think of yourself as my mom or something? That’s fucked up.”

“Well, it was my genetic code they used to enhance you.” She shrugs. “Along with a few others, but I was the primary. Same planet, similar genetic baseline.” 

“And what, you think that’s gonna change anything? I don’t give a shit if you used Thanos’s left nut to build me. It was a fucked up thing to do!”

“Are you sorry we made you?” she asks.

Rocket stares. Truth is, sometimes he does think he’d have been better off as a dumb little animal. Dumb things are happy; they don’t know what’s coming or how many people want to hurt them. Don’t have to save galaxies.

But they don’t get to love and be loved either. Not like he is.

“What you did to me,” he says slowly, “was sick. Wasn’t any reason for you to do half the shit you did. You’re a sadistic, egotistical piece of shit. Whole galaxy’s better off without you.”

She levels him with a look. “And who will you hate when I’m gone?”

“What?” 

“I said, who will you hate? You’ve obviously been nursing this grudge for awhile. What about when I’m gone? Who’s going to fuel that rage of yours then?” She leans back and crosses her arms.

Rocket thinks about it. Thinks about Yondu, about Quill and his goddamn tragic parenting situation, and Gamora and Nebula.

He thinks about Mantis, whose whole life until now was stolen from her, and Drax, who should be at a park somewhere playing with his little girl. 

He thinks about Groot.

“I got plenty of people to hate,” he tells her, and he pulls the trigger.

Her whole body jerks and then goes still, the wound in her chest seeping dark red blood. It’s messy. Impossible to mistake for an accident.

Rocket collapses into the chair, sitting there numbly and staring at her limp form. 

Relief. That’s what he feels, if he thinks about it. Pure relief. She’s gone. Everyone involved with the whole disgusting place is gone.

Rocket gives himself about a minute to just feel it, and then he’s moving, stowing the gun back in his bag and heading out the door.

Nebula quirks an eyebrow when he meets her back at the ship, and looks satisfied when he nods. Rocket watches her as they break atmo and point the ship back toward the _Starhawk._ He wonders how much she fought with Gamora about going with him, and why it means so much to her. He can guess, but he ain’t gonna ask for confirmation. There are some things they don’t talk about, him and Nebula.

Although he figures Quill’s got some stiff competition now for the title of Rocket’s Best Friend.

“Can you even have two best friends?” he wonders out loud.

Nebula gives him a weird look. “What are you talking about?”

“Nothin’.” Rocket looks out the viewscreen. “Just...thanks. Didn’t have to do this.”

“Yes I did.” She won’t look at him either. After an awkward silence that stretches a beat too long she smashes at the console with her finger until some of Quill’s tunes come on. 

And Rocket relaxes slightly, tapping his finger to the beat as the singer croons about going all the way. He feels more like himself than he has in days.

Groot’s the only one waiting for them in the hangar when Rocket steps off the ship. He kneels down as soon as he sees him.

“Hey,” he whispers.

Groot climbs up to his shoulder. “I am Groot.”

“Yeah. Sorry about that. I had somethin’ to take care of down there.” Rocket keeps a protective hand cupped around Groot as he gets to his feet. 

“I am Groot?”

“Nah, I got it. You still want me to read you a story? Quill does the voices better.” 

Little vines twine around his fingers. “I am Groot!”

“Okay, okay. But no interrupting me if I don’t tell it right.” Rocket knows Groot’s been sleeping in Quill and Gamora’s room, so he heads that way. It’s just down the hall from his and Yondu’s and Kraglin’s room, and he spares their door a long look before he passes it to knock on Quill’s door.

Gamora opens it. “Rocket.” She sounds surprised. “I didn’t think you’d be back yet.”

Rocket shrugs. “I’m not interrupting anything good, am I? Groot wants me to read him a story.”

Gamora’s face softens a little, like it only does for Quill and Groot. “Come on in. Peter’s in the shower.” She snags a pair of sleep pants and tosses them through the bathroom door; Rocket snickers at Quill’s muffled yelp.

Groot hops off Rocket’s shoulder and runs for the datapad with his favorite dumb little stories on it. He tries to bring it back to Rocket, who points at his pot.

“Nope. Bed. I ain’t lettin’ you sleep with Quill and Gamora.”

“I am Groot!”

“I don’t care what Mantis does! You got a perfectly good pot right there. I built it myself.” Rocket crosses his arms, ignoring Gamora’s fond looks.

“I am Groot,” is the final, sulky response as Groot crawls into his pot. He sullenly lets Rocket pat soil around him so he’s tucked in all comfy.

“There we go,” he mutters, pulling up one of Groot’s favorites on the datapad. “Okay, here we go. There was a boy on the edge of-”

“-I am Groot!”

“What? Fine. _Once upon a time,_ there was a boy on the edge of the known galaxy. Better?”

“I am Groot.”

“So glad you approve. Anyway-”

Quill comes out of the shower about halfway through the story, perching on the bed next to Gamora to listen as Rocket reads this dumb book about a scrapper who brings some treasure home to his mom. It takes way longer than it should, but by the time Rocket finishes, Groot’s snoozing away in his pot.

“Who picks this crap for kids?” Rocket wonders. 

“I picked it. It’s cute.” Quill looks offended.

Rocket shrugs. “Cute an’ dumb. But whatever, so is Groot.”

“Don’t call him dumb. All kids are dumb, that’s not their fault.” Quill tilts his head. “You okay?” he asks, quieter than before.

And Rocket surprises himself a little when he truthfully answers, “yeah. I’m gonna be.”

He’ll never be totally fine. There’s shit in his past that’s not going away, and nothing’s gonna make that better. But whatever shiny new optimism’s been carrying him through since he met all these assholes is holding strong. 

Quill and Gamora both give him relieved smiles. “We were all worried about you,” says Quill. “You got pretty weird there for awhile.”

“Yeah, I know.” Rocket scratches his cheek awkwardly. He’s stupidly grateful they didn’t hover while he dealt with it. “Well, I’ll see you guys tomorrow. Night.” He backs out of the room as quickly as he can and walks down the hall to his own room.

They’re waiting for him with matching expressions; Kraglin’s sitting on the bed coiled with tension, and Yondu’s clearly been pacing.

Rocket closes the door behind him and leans against it with a tired smile. “It’s good to be back,” he says, and Kraglin’s shoulders relax. 

Yondu sits down heavily on the bed. “Good t’ have ya back,” he says in that soft voice that always melts through Rocket’s defenses.

It’s enough.

So Rocket strips off the suit that still stinks like Ryback’s apartment and throws it into the laundry pile. It can marinate with Kraglin’s socks until everything’s back to normal. He’s missed it; his skin doesn’t smell right without Kraglin and Yondu all over him. They never go this long without touching. 

He gives Yondu a pointed look, and glares until the guy takes a hint and starts pulling off his leathers. Kraglin follows suit, and when they’re both down to holey underwear and nothing else, Rocket crawls in.

It’s not even a sex thing tonight; Rocket doesn’t think he could fuck right now anyway. He just needs skin-to-skin contact, and he needs it now. He snuggles against Yondu’s chest with a defiant look in case anyone wants to say anything about it.

They don’t. Kraglin slides into bed behind him, a trusty shadow at his back. He presses his face into the back of Rocket’s neck. Little puffs of his breath tickle the fur there, but Rocket doesn’t tell him to stop. 

He’s never gonna be normal. His life careens back and forth between violence and domestic shit like this. Hell, he just killed his creator in cold blood and then came home to read Groot a bedtime story. 

The fancy Xandarian therapists would have a field day with that.

But you know what? Fuck ‘em. Rocket feels pretty okay with his life.


	2. Chapter 2

He wakes up to the feeling of thick fingers carding through his fur. Rocket blinks at the clock, notes the time, and pushes back into Yondu’s hand. “Hey.”

“Mornin’” Yondu moves to his chin, stroking it the way Rocket likes.

Rocket sighs and tips his head back with a smile. “Where’s Kraglin?”

“Left early. Said he had t’ go get somethin’ off the planet.”

Rocket can’t get used to spending so much time in a stable orbit. He’s been a spacer too long. “Probably after the good toilet paper,” he mutters. “I always thought Quill was a snob about that shit, but no. He just grew up with your cheap ass.”

Yondu snorts. “‘S fuckin’ paper t’ wipe your ass with. Ain’t gotta be fancy.”

“Some of us are delicate!” Rocket can feel the vibration against his back as Yondu chuckles and tugs him closer.

“I know jus’ how delicate you are,” he whispers, sliding his hand down Rocket’s belly and making him squirm.

Rocket’s breath hitches when Yondu cups his groin. All the twisted shit they do together, and this little thing still gets him. His dick slides out of its sheath like it’s been trained, slipping into Yondu’s hand. 

“There you are,” Yondu murmurs. The way his voice rumbles through Rocket’s whole body is so good. 

God, he’s missed this.

“Please,” Rocket whispers, pushing his hips up.

Yondu ain’t Kraglin; he doesn’t tease. Just presses his hand more firmly against his cock and grazes his fingertips over Rocket’s balls. 

“ _Shit,_ ” Rocket pants, already worked up. Never takes much with Yondu; his smell, the sound of his voice, the feel of his hands is enough to make Rocket shake with wanting.

“How you want it, boy?” purrs Yondu as he holds Rocket tighter to his chest. “You want me t’ keep doin’ this?” He rocks his hand a little, prompting Rocket to gasp and hump against it. “Or you got somethin’ else in mind? I could blow ya.”

Rocket whines. “Just this. Just like this, fuck.” He’s rocking shamelessly into Yondu’s hand, callused palm gliding perfectly over his slippery dick. One of Yondu’s fingers taps playfully against his balls, and Rocket moans.

“You make th’ prettiest li’l noises, you know that?” Yondu nuzzles the top of his head, slinging his free arm around Rocket’s chest to keep him in place. “I could listen t’ you moanin’ fer me all day.”

Rocket shivers. “Keep makin’ me moan then.” 

“Oh, I plan to. Way you been actin’, keepin’ away so long, we ain’t gonna let you outta this bed fer a week at least.”

“Oh god.” And now it’s in Rocket’s mind, them keeping him locked in here to play with whenever it suits them. Twisted place his brain is, it’s sexy instead of creepy. Makes him spread his legs wider and thrust against Yondu’s hand. “Do it, fucking wreck me, _Yondu—_ ”

“Easy,” Yondu murmurs, petting his chest. “Jus’ wanna make you feel good, boy.” He slides his hand back further, grazing Rocket’s asshole with a ragged nail. 

Rocket jerks a little at the touch before trying to shove into it. “Please,” he whimpers, and he barely recognizes his own voice. 

Yondu pets a dry finger across Rocket’s hole. And shit, he’s got his wrist held just so Rocket can keep rubbing his dick against it. Yondu’s skin is smooth there, unlike his palms. It feels silky and sticky when he humps against it.

“Wanna come,” whispers Rocket. “Come on, please make me come.”

“Can you, like this?” There’s a smile in Yondu’s voice even if Rocket can’t see his face. “Jus’ from humpin’ my hand an’ one li’l finger on your asshole? Damn, I love how easy you are for me.”

“I am.” Rocket nods frantically, trying to get more pressure on his cock. “Shit, _god,_ I’m such a whore for you. Give it to me, _come on._ ”

“How’m I s’posed t’ say no when you beg me so pretty?” Yondu shifts his wrist, giving Rocket just the right pressure he needs, and Rocket could cry at how good it is.

He ruts desperately, torn between the pressure on his cock and the pressure on his asshole, and it’s the sweetest kind of torture he’s ever experienced. He doesn’t last long, caught up in the loop of sensation until he breaks with a high-pitched little whine and comes all over Yondu’s hand.

Yondu raises the dirty hand to Rocket’s mouth and presses it there, all but rubbing his nose in it. Rocket licks it clean, trembling a little at the sheer filthiness. He fucking loves it.

“Wanna blow you,” he mutters as soon as he can get Yondu’s fingers out of his mouth.

Yondu chuckles. “Not gonna say no t’ that.” He rolls into his back and shoves his underwear down his thighs.

Rocket is on him in an instant, trailing his nose up Yondu’s thigh and huffing his scent through his open mouth. He always smells so good here; Rocket’s favorite place in the galaxy is right between Yondu’s thick thighs. 

Yondu puts his hand on the back of Rocket’s neck, and Rocket loves how it grounds him. He lets the weight of it ease him down and laps a bead of precum off the head of Yondu’s cock. It twitches under his tongue and he grins, listening to Yondu’s breath hitch. He teases with little kitten licks for a bit, then pauses to lick his palms until the calluses soften up and he can wrap both hands around the base.

Yondu groans, tightening his hand on Rocket’s neck. “Jus’ like that, boy. Get them sweet li’l hands on me.”

Rocket’s weak for Yondu’s praise, always has been, and it urges him to jerk Yondu off faster, lick harder, until Yondu’s moaning and twitching his hips in aborted little thrusts.

Yondu finally comes with a low, rumbling groan, hand clenching into Rocket’s thick fur. Rocket meets his eyes and smirks at the lazy, fucked-out grin he gets in response.

He has the urge to rub Yondu’s come all over his skin, but practicality wins out. Rocket’s hands are drenched in his own spit and his face is already crusty from dried saliva and precum. Adding more mess would just be ridiculous. So he nuzzles Yondu’s belly and swipes his tongue through the mess there. He likes how it makes Yondu’s stomach quiver.

Yondu lets him do it, laying bonelessly on the bed with a hand still on the back of Rocket’s neck. “That,” he says after Rocket’s finished, “is a fine way t’ start the day.”

“No arguments from me.” Rocket flops next to him, starfishing across the bed just because he can.

Yondu turns his head Rocket’s way. “I missed you, boy. Don’t go away like that again.”

Rocket swallows. “I had to. Would’ve said and done things I regretted if I was around people.”

Yondu sighs. “Yeah, I figured. You still should’ve said so.”

“Well, she’s dead, so I doubt it’s gonna come up again.”

“We both know it ain’t that simple,” says Yondu softly.

“No.” Rocket stares at the ceiling. “Not simple at all.”

Yondu raises his arm, and Rocket obligingly tucks himself under it. “I never asked you—what the hell did Stakar want? I bumped into him outside our room and he said you and Kraglin were having a domestic.”

Yondu snorts. “Like he can fuckin’ talk, way he an’ Aleta fight. Kraglin wanted t’ go drag you back here an’ I told him you’d chew his face off if he tried. He wasn’t too happy ‘bout it.”

Rocket cringes. “I was such a dick.”

“Yep. Count yourself lucky, boy. You’re about the only one who can get away with it. He don’t take that shit from me no more.” Yondu smirks at him as the lock beeps.

“He’s too good for us assholes,” Rocket mutters.

“Can ya say that again? I wanna record it for posterity.” Kraglin eyes the two of them. He sets down a rectangular box and crosses his arms. “I missed somethin’ good,” he says with a grin.

Rocket gives him a thumbs up.

Kraglin just snorts and leans over to pull Yondu’s underwear back up his ass. Yondu shifts to let him without complaint, the freaking princess. 

“So what did you have to get down there?” asks Rocket. 

Kraglin gives him a sultry look through his eyelashes. “Somethin’ I told you I was gonna buy, soon as we got t’ Xandar.”

Rocket’s mouth goes dry. “Are you serious?” 

“Yep.” Kraglin winks. “I figured you might be in the mood for somethin’ nice after all this.”

Rocket has to fight down a shiver. “Yeah,” he manages. “Yeah, that—sounds good.”

“What’s that now?” Yondu finally sits up. “You buyin’ presents for him an’ not me, Krags?” A sixty-something-year-old man shouldn’t pout, but Yondu never let that stop him. He even manages to look cute. 

“Oh, you’ll like it too,” says Kraglin. “Made sure they was nice an’ sparkly, just how ya like.” 

That pleases Yondu enough to get him out of bed; he even smacks Kraglin’s ass playfully on his way to the bathroom.

“Sparkly?” Rocket dares to ask.

“You’ll see.”

—-

So it’s safe to say Rocket’s dying of anticipation the whole rest of the day. Which is awkward when he’s trying not to daydream about Kraglin plugging his ass while he apologizes to Mantis for making her cry.

“You are distracted,” she says, antennae drooping. “You know, I am not angry with you.”

Fuck. “Nah, Mantis, I gotta say sorry. You were tryin’ to be nice. I was just—”

“What?” She looks curious.

“I—you know how you’d feel, if Ego came back and you saw him walking down the street somewhere?”

Her jaw clenches. “I would be scared. And angry.”

“Yeah, well.” Rocket scratches his ear. “Somethin’ like that happened to me. And it messed me up for awhile.”

“Oh.” Mantis nods. “That is understandable.” She tilts her head. “But you feel better now?”

“A lot better,” he confirms.

She smiles, and now that she’s learned how to do it she lights up the whole room. “I’m glad. There’s so much sadness in you, and you deserve to be happy.”

Rocket blinks at her. “Thanks?” 

“It’s true! You and Peter and Kraglin and Nebula are all teaching me to fix things and fight and pilot, and you’re all patient with me even though I never learned anything useful in my life, and that’s something only a good person would do. You might be mean sometimes, but you’re a good person.”

Rocket’s helpless with her staring all earnestly like that. “Thanks,” he finally says. “You’re a good person too.”

“I’m not always sure of that,” she says thoughtfully. “I never tried to stop Ego. I could have warned you that you were in danger when we were on Berhert, but I didn’t. So maybe you are better than me, even though I’m nicer.”

“I just murdered someone last night,” he blurts.

Mantis blinks. “Then I’m sure they must have been very bad.” She smiles brightly as she gets to her feet. “Thank you for apologizing, Rocket. You’ll keep getting nicer with practice.”

Rocket’s not sure what to say to that, except— “Mantis! Don’t go spreadin’ that around!”

—-

By the time he makes it back to their room at the end of the day, he’s a jittery mess. His palms are sweaty; when he looks up he sees Kraglin sitting on the bed waiting for him with that hooded look.

“Strip,” says Kraglin softly.

Rocket swallows, reaching up with eager hands to undo the straps on his suit and push it down his legs. His cock is peeking out of the sheath, a little hint of pink nearly hidden by his fur.

Kraglin reaches for the box; Rocket didn’t notice it before now, but it’s sitting next to Kraglin’s thigh. “Ya know the hardest part about runnin’ a fuck?” he asks.

Rocket shakes his head.

“It’s knowin’ when t’ push, an’ how hard. An’ when not t’ push at all.” Kraglin meets his eyes. “It’s about knowin’ what the other person needs.”

Rocket’s stomach drops. “I—”

“Nah.” Kraglin’s expression softens. “I don’t need anymore apologies, Rocket. But if you wanna run shit, ya can’t lose control o’ yourself. C’mere.”

He goes, heart pounding. Kraglin nods, so Rocket climbs onto the bed with him. His breath catches when Kraglin opens the box; nestled inside is a set of plugs, ranging in size from small to intimidating. They’re a shiny pink metal with little pink jewels set into the bases.

Rocket looks up at Kraglin, overwhelmed.

“Pink’s your favorite color, ain’t it?” Kraglin gives him a crooked smile.

Rocket has to kiss him; he’s crawling into Kraglin’s lap and grabbing at his hair to lick at his mouth, his face, his neck. Any part of him, because this is—

Kraglin chuckles, running a hand up and down Rocket’s back. “Thought you’d like ‘em. I couldn’t get down there t’ pick ‘em up until this mornin’. Glad I didn’t bump into anyone.”

Rocket snickers. “Can you imagine telling Stakar what you were doing?”

Kraglin winces. “I still can’t believe how you an’ Pete talk t’ him. I know you ain’t Ravagers, but still.”

Rocket snuggles a little more firmly into his lap. “You can’t give him shit, so I will.”

Kraglin’s hand wraps around his tail and strokes. “You’re one o’ the good ones, Rocket. Even when you’re a dick.”

Guilt hits him somewhere near the solar plexus. “Kraglin...” 

“Already told ya I’m not mad.” Kraglin rests his chin on Rocket’s head and keeps petting his tail.

“I know, but—” Rocket swallows. Talking about this stuff is horrible, but he doesn’t wanna end up like Yondu and Kraglin, with a minefield of old grudges between them. “It should’ve been different. _I_ should’ve been different. It was supposed to be, you know, special.”

Kraglin snorts. “We talkin’ about the same thing? I ain’t sorry you fucked me. That part was fun. Kinda weird, but it was fun. I was pissed about ya bringin’ it up around Nebula.”

Rocket blinks. “Oh.”

“An’ maybe explainin’ them teeth marks on my neck t’ Mantis weren’t so fun either, but that ain’t your fault.” Kraglin shakes his head. “Dumbass.”

“Well, _excuse me,_ ” mutters Rocket grumpily. Now he’s kind of embarrassed. Stupid, sappy idea anyway.

“Hey.” Kraglin tips his chin up. “You can fuck me sweet anytime ya want.”

“Shut up.” Rocket gives him a weak smile. “Besides, what would you do if I said I wanted to fuck you right now?”

“I’d say yes, an’ then I’d just have t’ use them pretty plugs on Yondu instead. Fuck knows with how long he’s been in the bathroom, he’s gotta be clean enough for ‘em.” Kraglin rolls his eyes.

The door cracks open and Kraglin gets a red-eyed glare for his trouble. “ _Some_ of us don’t handle Xandarian food so well, Obfonteri. Quit whinin’ an’ get him started.” He slams the door shut again.

Rocket snickers. “I didn’t even know he was in there.”

“Ya will if he don’t close the door after he comes out.” Kraglin rolls his eyes.

“So should we wait?” asks Rocket after he’s done laughing.

“Nah.” Kraglin teases the base of his tail, which gets his attention. “Hope you don’t need t’ get in there.”

Rocket snorts. He cleaned his ass on the _Milano_ when no one else was in there. “We’re good.”

“Then get your ass in the air like a good little slut.” Kraglin lets Rocket’s tail slide through his hand as Rocket scrambles into position.

Rocket closes his eyes, waiting for Kraglin to put his hands on him. He can hear rustling in the drawer next to the bed, which means Kraglin’s getting the lube out. It makes him grin. He wants this more than he realized.

Kraglin flips his tail up without any fanfare and nudges Rocket’s legs further apart. “Where’s that sweet cock o’ yours?” he asks, reaching between Rocket’s thighs to fondle his balls. 

Rocket bites his lip against a moan as Kraglin’s fingers play over the sheath of his cock, coaxing it all the way out. He slides forward onto his elbows and spreads wider. “Kraglin...”

“There it is,” Kraglin murmurs. “I love your pretty little cock. Looks just like one o’ them shiny candies, so pink an’ slick.” He rubs his fingers over the head, slicking them up before he pops them in his mouth. “An’ ya taste just as sweet.”

Rocket groans, hiding his face in the blankets. Kraglin always says the dirtiest shit to him, and it always gets him so worked up he can barely think.

Kraglin pulls his fingers out of his mouth with a lewd slurp as the bathroom door opens.

Yondu closes it behind him and slouches over to flop next to Rocket. “Ain’t he pretty laid out like that. Let’s see them shinies you got, Krags.”

Rocket turns his head to look at Yondu. “You gonna join in?”

“We’ll see. He’s got plans for you.” Yondu smirks.

“Whattaya think, Cap’n?” Kraglin asks from behind him.

Yondu cranes his neck and lets out a low whistle (the arrow shudders in the holster; Rocket can see it hanging off the headboard). “That,” he declares, “is a beautiful thing. You gon’ look so pretty, boy.” 

Rocket shivers. “Get it in me. I want it.”

“He’s already beggin’, Kraglin.” Yondu smirks.

“I know. He’s awful needy today. Guess that’s what happens when he stays away too long.” Kraglin leans down, looming over Rocket in the best way. “You been missin’ the feel o’ someone’s hands on ya? Hm? Gettin’ desperate an’ horny without us here t’ stuff you full?”

“Yes,” whispers Rocket, squeezing his eyes shut. “You gonna make me beg for it?”

There’s a pause where Rocket just _knows_ Yondu and Kraglin are looking at each other. Then Kraglin pets a finger across his hole. “Nah. But I got an idea for you.”

Rocket arches his back, trying to get more contact. “What’s that?”

“I figure it’s gonna take a couple days to get you stretched enough t’ get fucked.” Kraglin keeps petting over his hole, making Rocket’s thighs tremble. “How’d you like it if the next time you get t’ come, it’s on one of our cocks?”

Rocket’s breath catches. “And what am I supposed to do between now and then?”

Kraglin smirks. “Be a good little fucktoy an’ let us play with you.”

“ _Oh my god,_ ” Rocket whispers. The thought makes his cock twitch, gets him so hot he can barely breathe. “Oh god.”

Yondu pets up and down his back. “I think he likes that idea.”

“I know he does. He’s been dyin’ for this since the first time you touched him. Look how hard he is.” Kraglin whispers right into Rocket’s ear. “Bet he’d like it if we passed him back an’ forth. Get him all worked up an’ then send him out to go work on somethin’.”

Rocket whines. Yeah, he likes it. 

Yondu chuckles. “Jus’ like the old days, huh? You gonna play with him after I do? Pretend you can still taste me on his skin?”

Kraglin’s silent, and Rocket picks his head up to see what he’s thinking.

He’s staring at Yondu with that look he gets. Like he wants to crawl inside him and eat his heart. 

Yondu’s staring right back, lips quirked like he’d let him.

“Yeah,” Kraglin finally breathes. “Just like that.”

Rocket shivers. “I want it,” he says in a small voice. “Do it. Please.”

They both turn on him, and Rocket feels dizzy from the heat in their eyes. The fingertip against his hole disappears, and gets replaced with something cold and slick.

Kraglin rubs the end of the plug against his hole, warming it up and smearing lube all over him. It drips down Rocket’s balls and he shudders. “That’s right,” Kraglin purrs, “Let’s get you nice an’ sloppy. Gonna open you up so sweet we can slide right in. An’ then plug you up for next time. Think about how good you’re gonna smell with our come plugged up inside you.”

Rocket shoves back, sending the plug sliding against his balls. It makes him jerk, and makes Kraglin laugh.

“I do love watchin’ you work,” Yondu purrs next to them, and Rocket flushes. There’s something really filthy about Yondu watching him like this.

Kraglin sounds pleased when he answers, “Could’ve had this all to yourself if we’d been smarter.” He presses the plug against Rocket’s hole and starts to push in. “I still remember how hot ya got for me the first time I played with your ass.”

Rocket actually mewls, clenching at the sheets and trying not to die from the stretch and the thought of Yondu’s shocked pleasure.

“Yeah,” Yondu rasps. “I remember that too.”

They’re gonna fuck after this, Rocket realizes. They’re gonna plug him up and make him watch while they fuck. 

“Oh fuck,” he whispers, cock throbbing. He’s never gonna survive this. Not for days.

The plug finally slides home, nestling against his prostate. It’s torture now that Rocket knows the game, grinding just right every time he moves. His cock is so hard he can feel his pulse pounding down there.

“ _Shit,_ ” Kraglin whispers. “Come take a look at this.” 

Rocket has to hide his face again as Yondu sits up to admire the plug in his ass. “Ah hell,” says Yondu faintly. He taps it with a fingertip and Rocket has to muffle his shriek into the blankets. 

“I’m not sure he’s gonna last a few days, Krags.” Yondu’s grinning; Rocket can tell from the tone of his voice. “He’s gonna come all over himself the minute you touch his dick.”

Kraglin snorts. “Not if he wants to come with our cocks in his ass, he won’t.” He flips Rocket over so he’s flat on his back, legs spread and panting up at both of them. “You gonna be good?” he asks in that soft, dangerous voice. “Gonna behave so I can give you what ya want?”

Rocket shudders, cock twitching. “Yeah,” he whispers. 

“Yeah what?”

“I’ll be good.” Rocket’s face is on fire. He’s torn between shame and something darker, and he hates it almost as much as he loves it. 

Kraglin smirks. “I know you will.” He turns to Yondu and pulls him in for a kiss. Yondu melts into it, raising a hand to cup Kraglin’s face as he opens his mouth. His other hand slides down Kraglin’s torso, gripping his skinny waist and pulling him down on top of him.

Rocket props himself on his elbows, unable to look away. Kraglin kisses his way down Yondu’s throat and chest, pausing to smirk when he gets to his pouch. 

“No,” says Yondu weakly, but even Rocket can see the way his breath speeds up. 

“You ever gonna relax about this?” Kraglin asks. “I know it feels good for ya.”

Yondu’s cheeks go navy. “Krags—”

“I like it,” Kraglin whispers. He ducks his head to kiss wetly along the seam of Yondu’s pouch. “It’s hot.”

Yondu lets his head fall back. “Fuck. Never should’ve let you do it.”

Kraglin eases the flap of skin down, stretching it gently. “Never should’ve hidden these pretty little tits from me, that’s what.” His lips find a nipple and close around it, making Yondu cry out and clutch at his hair.

Rocket’s mouth waters watching them; he always just figured Yondu didn’t have nipples. No wonder Kraglin’s always trying to play with his pouch.

Yondu’s making noises, head thrown back and legs spread. His skin’s flushed a dark blue and his eyes are squeezed shut, like he can’t let himself look. 

Kraglin pulls back with a loud pop, grinning up at Yondu. “You’re fine with me eatin’ your ass but not suckin’ your tits.”

“D-don’t call ‘em that,” gasps Yondu, turning his face away.

“Why? I know how much ya like it.” Kraglin waits until Yondu looks at him again and then licks deliberately across his nipple. “You want me t’ stop?”

Yondu’s mouth falls open, but he doesn’t say anything. 

Kraglin grins in response and goes back to it. He doesn’t stop until Yondu’s moaning. 

“Krags, quit it an’ fuck me already! C’mon. Do it or I’ll go sit on Rocket’s dick!”

Rocket’s stupid dick twitches at that idea, but Kraglin just gives Yondu a look. He crawls back up Yondu’s body until they’re face to face. “Tell me you actually prepped yourself while you was in the bathroom.”

Yondu makes a face. “Obviously. Don’t be stupid, Obfonteri.”

“Good,” whispers Kraglin, and he lines up and pushes in.

Yondu moans, eyes sliding shut as Kraglin bottoms out. He locks his legs behind Kraglin’s back and holds on. 

Kraglin doesn’t go easy on him; it occurs to Rocket that Yondu’s getting everything Kraglin can’t give to Rocket yet, and fuck if that isn’t the hottest thing he can think of right now. 

Neither of them last very long; Kraglin comes with a growl and reaches down to jerk Yondu off. He stays buried inside Yondu, letting Yondu cling to him and gasp and moan his way through his orgasm.

Yondu’s laying there panting when Kraglin pulls out and snaps, “Rocket.”

Rocket perks up. “Yeah?”

“C’mere.”

So Rocket goes. When he gets close enough Kraglin grabs the back of his neck. He shoves Rocket’s face into Yondu’s crotch. “Lick him clean,” he orders.

Rocket moans gratefully, lapping up the globs of come leaking from Yondu’s hole. The smells and the taste make his cock throb, and he snuffles forward, nosing up under Yondu’s balls and licking into his hole.

Yondu lets out a shivery moan. “Fuckin’ _hell,_ Kraglin.” He tries to close his legs as Rocket licks deeper.

“Keep ‘em open,” says Kraglin softly. “I like watchin’ ya.”

That makes them both moan, and Yondu shakes and twitches under Rocket’s tongue until the last of Kraglin’s come is cleaned out of him.

Rocket sits up, wiping his mouth and looking at Kraglin. He feels weird, shaky and floaty, and if Kraglin doesn’t ground him he doesn’t know what can.

But Kraglin always knows just what he needs; he reaches out to card his fingers through the fur on Rocket’s back, pulling him into his lap and petting him until he calms down. Rocket lets his eyes fall shut, basking in it. They never make him admit it, but they know he loves to be pampered.

Yondu rests his head on Kraglin’s thigh and takes Rocket’s hand. It’s sappy, even for them, but Rocket smiles at him and doesn’t say anything. 

Kraglin’s free hand drops to Yondu’s shoulder, squeezing affectionately, and it’s good like this, all of them touching each other.

Rocket’s never felt more human.

—

He wakes up with the plug still in his ass and his cock rubbing against Yondu’s thigh. He meets the amused red eyes and clears his throat. “Hi.”

“Good mornin’ t’ you too.” Yondu snorts and looks down at Rocket’s dick. “Why don’chu go take that out an’ wash it off. I’ll get the next one.”

Rocket nods, crawling over Kraglin’s snoring form to get to the bathroom. Walking is horrible, and amazing, and seriously, he’s never gonna survive today. There’s no way he can look Quill in the eye with this thing inside him.

Getting it out, getting it cleaned up, taking a dump, and cleaning himself up takes longer than he expected it would. Maybe it’s just Kraglin’s low hygiene standards, but getting fingered never takes this much preparation. Rocket’s a little annoyed with the whole process by the time he gets back out and sees Kraglin sitting up, grinning at him.

“Movin’ up to a bigger one already, huh? You’re gonna be feelin’ this all day.” Kraglin hands the lube to Yondu.

Rocket shivers, climbing back up on the bed. “How do you want me?” he asks.

“Hands an’ knees is good,” says Yondu, petting his lower back. 

Rocket gets into position, lets Yondu move him how he wants, and groans when a slick finger slides easily into him.

“Tha’s right, you open up so sweet for me, don’chu?” Yondu’s voice washes over Rocket as he fingers him open, and Rocket lets himself drift, still a little sleepy. Everything feels good without a sense of urgency, and he actually really likes it.

Then the plug nestles against his hole, and the stretch begins. It ain’t like Rocket’s never taken anything big before—hell, Kraglin’s stuffed him full of three fingers more than once—but this is hard and cool and unrelenting in a way that makes it feel even bigger. He moans helplessly as it reaches its widest point. Then it pops in easily, and Rocket has to just _breathe_ through the fullness.

“You’re doin’ so good,” Yondu whispers, and Rocket chokes on a sob.

He didn’t expect it to be this intense. He loves it, but it’s a lot.

Kraglin reaches out to rub his lower back, which actually helps him relax. Gradually, with both their hands on him, he gets used to the stretch. 

At least until he tries to move and ends up gasping on his stomach. He can hear Yondu’s dirty laughter mixing with Kraglin’s snickering, but mostly he’s just laid out flat by the way the plug grinds on his prostate. He could make himself come with this one, if he wanted. 

But he told Kraglin he’d play along, so he gets to his feet slowly, trying not to jostle the plug too much. He’s breathing hard from the effort by the time he actually gets one leg into his jumpsuit.

Kraglin doesn’t move to help him, but he does watch him with a proud little smile twisting his lips. It’s enough to fortify Rocket; he smirks back, nods, and goes to get some breakfast.

—

Going into the mess hall during the busy morning meal with a giant (okay, it’s the second out of four plugs, but it _feels_ huge) toy in his ass might not have been the best idea. Rocket has to walk very carefully to avoid making any weird faces—or worse, noises—when the plug rubs his prostate. 

He decides to be sensible and take his food back to the makeshift workshop. That way he can eat without worrying about a hundred of Stakar’s people staring at him in case of a plug mishap.

The gun is still in the bag where he left it; Nebula must have brought it back here while he was taking care of Groot. Rocket stares at the bag while he chews, mulling things over. Ryback’s body is bound to be discovered soon; even if her schedule gave him a day of cover, the warm weather and close neighbors will make sure she gets noticed. Corpse stink isn’t something you can cover up with an air freshener.

Rocket ain’t worried about being linked to her murder; even if the gun is found, he’s got all the other Guardians as an alibi. So he eats his breakfast sandwich in peace, feeling pretty good about everything.

That only lasts until an hour later, when Stakar’s broad shadow falls across his doorway. His face is thunderous.

“Where were you the other night?” he asks in a dangerous voice.

Rocket slowly looks up from the second gun he’d started building. “What?”

“You heard me. Where were you?”

“Thought we were guests on your ship. Didn’t realize that meant reporting our comings and goings,” says Rocket obnoxiously.

Stakar slams the datapad down on the table, and sure enough, there’s the headline.

Right on schedule. Famous geneticist found murdered, no leads.

Rocket looks it over and then looks at Stakar. “You accusin’ me of something?”

“Terran scientist with a shady background turns up dead a week after you get to Xandar? Logs indicate one of your crowd took an M-ship for a late night cruise the other night. Seems a bit off, don’t you think?” Stakar crosses his arms. 

“You a good citizen now or something?” snaps Rocket. “What do you care about some dead scientist?”

“I don’t like not knowin’ what’s happening on my own ship,” Stakar growls. “And I sure don’t like being bullshitted. You forget, kid, I had Yondu around for years. I know when someone’s pullin’ shit behind my back.”

“Obviously not,” Rocket says, “or you’d have figured the Ego thing out a lot faster.”

Stakar goes white. “You’re a mean little fucker, aren’t you?”

Rocket’s grin is all teeth.

Stakar takes a step back and runs a hand over his face. “If you didn’t do it, you’d have denied it by now. So just tell me, is there any way this can get traced back to my ship?”

Rocket tilts his head. “You think I’d do that to Yondu?”

Stakar looks at him shrewdly. “You an’ him an’ Obfonteri, huh?” he finally asks, in a softer voice than Rocket’s expecting.

“Yeah.” Rocket raises his chin, daring the old fart to say anything about it.

Stakar sighs heavily. “You remind me of him, when he was younger,” he says. “We all loved him, you know. He was everybody’s favorite. The kid was batshit crazy, but he was our boy.”

“For what that’s worth when the chips were down,” says Rocket sourly.

“An’ if you found out one of your Guardians was sellin’ kids? What would you do?” demands Stakar.

Rocket really doesn’t wanna have this conversation with a toy in his ass. Fuck his life. He came here to hide from this crap. But he does ponder the question, unthinkable as it is. Because Stakar probably thought it was unthinkable too, at the time. 

He gives the question fair consideration, but he keeps coming back to one conclusion. “I’d find out why. None of us would do that just for money, so I’d look for the real reason.”

Stakar shakes his head. “You seem to think I didn’t. I’d been hearing rumors for _months_ about Yondu breaking the code. And I didn’t believe a goddamn one of ‘em. Yondu? Sell kids, when his own parents sold him? But finally I couldn’t ignore what I was hearing, you know?”

“Yeah, ignoring problems until they blow up in your face? Terrible strategy. But it’s nice to know he learned it from you.” Rocket’s not impressed.

“How was I supposed to figure out his reasons when he never said anything?” Stakar explodes. “He never _once_ defended himself! Didn’t give a single goddamned reason why he ran those kids! I offered! I gave him more chances than I had to give! I wanted there to be a reason, kid.” He sits down heavily in the chair across from Rocket. “I’d have done everything different if he’d given me a reason.”

“Thought he told you he didn’t know what was goin’ on,” says Rocket coldly. “Ever occur to you that was true?”

“No,” Stakar mutters, staring vaguely at the components Rocket has scattered all over the table. “How could he not know what was goin’ on? Yondu’s not stupid. No one pays that much for kids for a good reason.”

“So he _did_ give you a reason. You just thought it was bullshit.” 

“Thought he was lookin’ the other way because it made him rich.” Stakar shakes his head. “I couldn’t believe it. Yondu— _Yondu_ of all people, runnin’ kids.”

Rocket doesn’t move; partly because he isn’t sure he wants to break this weird mood and partly because of the plug. He eyes Stakar critically, thinking about what he’s hearing. “What about Kraglin?” he finally asks.

“What about him?”

“He was with Yondu when this went down. Did he say anything?”

Stakar snorts. “Nothing I’d repeat. After I read the verdict he went off like a madman. Cussin’ an’ spittin’ and damning us all to hell. Yondu had to drag him outta the room before he went for a weapon.”

Rocket smiles fondly. “Sounds like Kraglin.”

“Never figured they’d still be together all these years later.” Stakar shakes his head.

“Shows what you know.” Rocket reaches for a pliers and starts working on the less intricate wiring on the gun. He can feel Stakar’s eyes on him.

There’s a decent silence, and then Stakar asks, softly, “is he okay being here?”

Rocket looks up, annoyed. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Stakar sighs. “He does everything but run in the other direction when I try to talk to him.”

It’s too early for this. “Are you genuinely confused about why that is?”

Stakar looks like Rocket slapped him. “I’m doin’ everything I can to—”

“You’re doing everything _wrong,_ ” says Rocket bluntly. 

Stakar blinks. “An’ how do you figure that?”

Rocket’s renegotiating terms with Kraglin, because he deserves at least a blowjob for this. “Where do I start? The part where you misjudged his character so bad you ignored all the shit he _didn’t_ say? Or the part where you tried to butt in where you weren’t needed after you so graciously let him back in and almost ruined things between him and Kraglin? Or did you wanna hear about the part where you act really surprised every time you hear he’s actually been a pretty decent person this whole time?”

Stakar’s mouth falls open. “You...is that really how it’s coming across?” 

Rocket narrows his eyes. “Really? Now I can’t tell if you’re an asshole or if you’re just stupid.”

“Hey, you don’t get to talk to me like that,” snaps Stakar. 

“I ain’t one of your Ravagers! And cut the shit, you keep tryin’ to talk to me because I’m the one who’ll actually lay it out without sniveling.” Rocket sits up straighter, and then freezes as the plug rubs just right.

Stakar frowns. “You okay?”

“ _Shut up,_ ” Rocket grits between clenched teeth. 

Stakar’s eyebrows go up, but he lets it go. “So I’m making things worse, is that what you’re saying?”

Rocket closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Yep. That’s exactly what I’m saying. And let me tell you, it ain’t fun for me watchin’ him act like a kicked puppy when you’re around. He’s better than that.”

“Fuck.” Stakar sighs again. He looks old, Rocket realizes; he looks old the way Yondu sometimes looks old, with the weight of his regrets hanging all over him. 

“Ask him about Quill.”

“What?” Stakar jerks out of his reverie.

“I said, ask him about Quill. You wanna know how to talk to him, that’s how.” Rocket goes back to wiring the plasma diffuser. “Don’t bring up the old days, or the mutiny, or any of the other shit he don’t like talkin’ about.”

When he finally looks up again, Stakar’s watching him carefully. It makes him bristle, but Stakar only asks, “why did you call me the first time?”

Rocket stares. “I—” He doesn’t really want to get into this. This conversation’s already gone on way longer than it should have, and Rocket can’t move without feeling the plug in his ass. “He deserved it,” he settles on. 

Stakar’s eyes crinkle pleasantly when he smiles. “You’re alright, kid. I’ll see you around.” He gets to his feet and adds, quietly, “I owe you one.”

Rocket snorts. “You owe me at least three. Now quit fuckin’ up and go talk to him.”

And get the fuck away from Rocket and his butt plug. Thankfully, Stakar takes a hint and leaves.

Rocket lets out a deep breath and goes back to the gun.

—

“I,” Rocket announces, “deserve nice things.”

“‘Course you do,” says Kraglin, looking up from his datapad. “Why?”

Rocket plucks it out of his hands and sets it aside. “Because I suffered through a heart-to-heart with Stakar this morning, which would have been bad enough without this _huge fucking toy_ in my ass!”

He waits until Kraglin stops laughing, because yeah, if it was one of them in his position he’d laugh too. 

“Oh my god.” Kraglin actually wipes a tear from his eye. “Yeah, okay. You deserve somethin’ nice.” He clears his throat and tries not to giggle. “What’d ya have in mind?”

Rocket crawls into his lap. They’re in the Quadrant, alone since all the technicians are working on the bridge and the engine room. Crew quarters are stripped down to bare bones, but they still have a bed. “Surprise me?”

Kraglin’s doofy grin slides into something more predatory. “I can do that.” He kisses the top of Rocket’s head, hands smoothing over his hips. They’re big enough to wrap around Rocket’s middle, making him feel small and weirdly sexy.

Rocket licks once across Kraglin’s lips before pulling back and grinning as Kraglin tries to chase his mouth. “I want you to fuck me,” he whispers. “I want it so bad.”

Kraglin smirks. “I know. Won’t be long now.” He reaches back and taps at the base of the plug through Rocket’s suit.

It makes Rocket cry out and cling to him, shaking at the intensity of it. 

“We talked about it, you know,” Kraglin murmurs while Rocket’s remembering how to breathe. “Me an’ Yondu. How we’re gonna take turns with you. Once that last plug comes out, he’s gonna have you first, show you how it feels.” 

“Sounds good,” Rocket manages to gasp out.

Kraglin smirks and flips Rocket’s tail up. “An’ then he’s gonna pull out an’ I’m gonna have a turn, an’ we’re gonna share you back an’ forth until we both come inside you.”

Rocket moans, still clinging to Kraglin’s jumpsuit. “Shit, that’s gonna be so good.”

Kraglin chuckles darkly. “I know how much you like bein’ played with.” And he smacks Rocket’s ass, right over the base of the plug.

Rocket _howls,_ muffling it into Kraglin’s chest as his whole body lights up. Kraglin does it again, and his cock slides out of its sheath. 

“I can feel your cock,” Kraglin hisses. “You like gettin’ your ass slapped? Want me t’ bend you over like a cheap whore?”

“ _Fuck!_ Please, Kraglin, anything, _please!_ ” Rocket’s babbling, squirming in Kraglin’s lap as Kraglin raises his hand again and lets it land. 

“Listen t’ you squeal.” Kraglin grins. “Get your clothes off.”

Rocket’s hands are shaking; Kraglin has to help him with the straps. When he gets the suit off Kraglin pushes him onto his hands and knees.

“Open your legs. Lemme see,” says Kraglin.

Rocket does it, feeling exposed and dirty. He can’t decide if he wants Kraglin to smack his ass again or if he’s dreading it.

“Look how hard you are,” Kraglin murmurs. He toys with the plug gently, tugging on it until Rocket whines and then letting it slide fully back in. “This big ol’ plug rubbin’ on your prostate all day?”

Rocket nods, gripping the mattress. 

“Feels good, don’t it? Walkin’ around, no one knowin’ you’re such a little cock slut.” Kraglin delivers another slap to Rocket’s ass that makes him shriek.

“Kraglin...”

“What? Ain’t this nice?” Kraglin pushes on the base of the plug, grinding it mercilessly against Rocket’s prostate. “Here’s how nice I am. Listenin’ to you squealin’ got me all worked up. So I’m gonna let you blow me, an’ I’ll play with your ass the whole time you suck my cock. If you can come by the time I finish, I’ll let ya get away with it. How’s that?”

Rocket looks over his shoulder, pathetically grateful. He watches eagerly as Kraglin unzips his jumpsuit and slides it down to his thighs.

“C’mere.” Kraglin wiggles his fingers, and Rocket shuffles over on his knees. Kraglin lays back and pulls Rocket on top of him, head facing down toward his dick. “Get t’ work, princess. See if you can earn it.”

“Can I use my hands?” Rocket whispers, and then kicks himself for asking.

“Only if ya get ‘em wet first. Otherwise you’ll chafe my damn dick.” 

Rocket snickers in spite of himself and licks his paws soft before he wraps both hands around Kraglin’s gorgeous purple cock. He strokes a few times and then laps at the head, enjoying the taste of precum.

Kraglin groans. “That’s right, use that slutty tongue.” He presses a thumb against the base of the plug and grinds it harder into Rocket.

It makes him moan, opening his mouth and licking up the side of Kraglin’s cock. He’s getting better at covering his teeth, but he’s still running mostly on tongue and his hands. Shame, too, because he thinks he’d love to be able to take cock down his throat.

There are amazing jolts of pleasure radiating out from his ass. Kraglin keeps at it with the plug, a steady, filthy rocking that ruins Rocket’s concentration. He ends up panting hotly against Kraglin’s dick instead of actually sucking it.

So he tries to be better, whining and slurping at the head while he jerks him with both hands. He’s gonna come, can feel it building behind his balls; his cock is so hard where it’s rubbing against Kraglin’s stomach.

And then Kraglin changes the rhythm.

“ _Nooooo,_ Kraglin please!” Rocket moans desperately. “Come on, you said I deserved something nice!”

Kraglin shifts the plug in a little circle. “I’m still playin’ with your ass, ain’t I? Isn’t that nice?”

Rocket sobs, licking messily along Kraglin’s dick. Maybe if he does a good job, Kraglin will go easy and let him come. So he loses himself in the taste, and the feel of velvety skin under his tongue. Lets himself savor the pulse pounding in the big vein on the underside. Kraglin does have a beautiful dick, after all.

The pleasure in his ass becomes secondary as he gets more into it; Kraglin’s hitching breaths and the way his thighs shake when he gets close feel like triumphs. Rocket gets his mouth around the tip and moans when Kraglin comes like that.

He takes a deep breath when he comes up for air, smug that he’s gonna smell like Kraglin the rest of the day and none of the dumb bald bodies will ever know.

He’s still hard.

Now that he’s not distracted, the awareness of his own body comes back, and he slumps onto Kraglin’s stomach with a pathetic little whine. “Do I really need all four?” he asks hopefully.

“I’ll check you after the next one,” Kraglin promises, petting his back. “Seems like you’re takin’ ‘em real nice.”

Rocket snuffles the crease of Kraglin’s thigh. “Just don’t ever make me talk to Stakar with one in me again.”

“I’ll try.” 

Rocket’s quiet a minute. “I’m not gonna lie, I’d really like to fuck your face right now.”

Kraglin laughs. “I bet you would.” He pauses. “Ya know, if you really don’t wanna keep doin’ this, ya don’t have to.”

“I know.” Rocket crawls off of him; too tempting to rub off on his stomach otherwise. “I’ll tell you if I get sick of it. No joke about Stakar though. That was the most horrifying thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Kraglin laughs, the asshole, so Rocket pounces on him.

“Hey!” Kraglin ends up pinned with a scowling Rocket on his chest. Apparently Rocket ain’t as intimidating as he used to be, because Kraglin’s still laughing. He grins and pulls Rocket down for a kiss.

—

Kraglin, even though he’s a sadistic bastard who laughs at Rocket’s pain, keeps his word. He sticks close to Rocket the rest of the day and fends off anyone who tries to start more than a short conversation. This includes Quill, who looks between them and leaves once Kraglin starts snickering and Rocket throws a bolt at his head. 

He misses on purpose, but not by much.

Yondu’s not in their room when they head back there after dinner, so Rocket changes out the plug and curls up next to Kraglin to watch a holo. The reception this close to Xandar is awesome, so they take advantage and catch up on reruns of a popular sitcom. 

“Think he’s with Stakar?” Kraglin asks. 

“Dunno where else he’d be. Maybe Sparkles, but they don’t seem to get on so well.”

“Quit callin’ him Sparkles. Martinex is kind of a big deal.” Kraglin gives him a look.

“Like you didn’t go off on all of ‘em at your trial,” says Rocket. “Stakar told me Yondu had to drag you out.”

Kraglin grunts. “Yeah. But you’re not a kid like I was.”

Rocket makes a face.

They make it through two more episodes (Kraglin starts to drift off, the geezer) before Yondu comes back. Outwardly, he doesn’t seem much different, but he smells happy, and Rocket thinks he’s carrying himself a little more confidently.

“Hey,” he says, elbowing Kraglin awake.

Kraglin comes to with a snort and blinks. “Hi Cap’n,” he yawns.

Yondu stops at the foot of the bed and surveys them with his hands on his hips. “Well, ain’t you two domestic,” he drawls. “Fallin’ asleep in front o’ yer datapad like an old married couple.”

“We are an old married couple,” Rocket shoots back.

“‘Cept we ain’t married,” says Kraglin sleepily. 

“An’ we ain’t a couple neither,” Yondu adds.

Rocket shrugs. He feels pretty settled, marital status notwithstanding. Ain’t like they won’t be together till they die anyhow. He scratches his balls and peers at Yondu. “So where were you while we were bein’ all domestic?” 

Yondu shrugs off his coat, throws it aside, and sits down to pull off his boots. “Got t’ talkin’ with Stakar. Went better ‘n most o’ the other times. Had a couple beers, lost track o’ time.”

Rocket smiles at the contentment Yondu’s radiating. Makes the whole room smell better. He catches Kraglin’s eye and winks.

Kraglin reaches over to tweak his ear, but neither of them say anything about Rocket’s earlier conversation with Stakar. 

—

The third plug only lasts for half a day. Rocket ain’t meant for these drawn-out sex games. He stomps into their room and slams the door. “Okay, that is it! Get this fucking thing out of me, I am _done._ ” He glares at both Kraglin and Yondu where they’re sitting on the bed hunched over Kraglin’s datapad.

Yondu blinks at him. “What happened?”

“Mantis bumped into me and I think I broke her.” Rocket feels his face heating up. He’s never gonna be able to look that poor girl in the eye again.

Kraglin bites his lip, but he knows better than to laugh when Rocket’s this pissy. 

“Eh, someone needed t’ tell that girl what she’s missin’ anyway,” says Yondu easily. “Poor li’l thing’s probably dyin’ for someone t’ touch her.”

Rocket makes a face. “Might be, but she ain’t my type.”

“You ain’t hers neither,” says Kraglin with a shrug. “She likes Nebula.”

“ _What?_ How do you know that?” Rocket demands.

Kraglin blinks. “She’s been hangin’ around when I’m over at the Quadrant,” he says, like it’s no big deal. “We talk.”

“Li’l sister’s got herself an admirer,” muses Yondu. “That’s damn precious, actually.”

“No tellin’,” says Kraglin with a beaky stare at both of them. “I promised.”

“Well, good luck to her,” says Rocket. “Nebula’s freaking oblivious.” 

“I think Bug’s got a better handle on things than ya give her credit for.” Kraglin smirks. “Twenty units says she lands her girl.”

Yondu shakes his head. “I don’t take bets from you,” he tells Kraglin with a grin. “‘Specially not about women.”

“That’s ‘cause ya never was too good with ‘em,” says Kraglin fondly. “Always liked the mean ones with big tits.”

Yondu shrugs. “A man wants what he wants.”

“And what I want is for you assholes to fuck me,” snaps Rocket. “Is that gonna happen or do I need to go buy something to do the job?”

“Mouthy little thing, ain’t ya?” Kraglin eyes him. “I told you yesterday we was gonna check after this one. Go take it out, then come here an’ show me that pretty little hole o’ yours.”

“ _Thank you!_ ” says Rocket, as loudly and sarcastically as he can manage, and stalks off to the bathroom.

He leaves the plug in the sink because he’s too damn eager to bother with the cleaning routine. And because it’ll be funny to watch Yondu whine about touching it. After all, Yondu didn’t have to see the horrified realization bloom across Mantis’s face when she touched him, so Rocket figures he’s earned the right to make someone else clean it up and put it away.

He leaves the bathroom and stands at the foot of the bed with his hands on his hips, because Kraglin’s still looking over the datapad. That’s just rude.

“Oh sorry, were you busy?” he asks snidely. “Should I come back later?”

Kraglin lowers the datapad and gives him a look. “Why ain’t you on the bed with your ass in the air yet?”

Rocket grumbles, but Kraglin’s setting it aside and getting out the lube, so he gets into position. There’s a dirty little thrill Rocket gets from this, spreading his legs like a whore while Kraglin messes around with his datapad. It makes him feel cheap and weirdly sexy.

“Oh, that is real pretty,” murmurs Kraglin. He sinks a slick finger into Rocket’s hole with no warning, making Rocket’s toes curl and his dick slide out. “Shit, Cap’n, I think he can take ya.”

“Issat right?” Yondu leans over, and Rocket has to bury his face in his arms. They’re both _inspecting_ him, and it’s so dirty he wants to die. “Better test it out. Tha’s an awful tight li’l hole he’s got.”

“Fuck,” Rocket whimpers. They ignore him.

A cooler, thicker finger slides in next to Kraglin’s, wiggling around. Yondu’s ragged thumbnail grazes the delicate skin of Rocket’s hole and makes him whine. “Oh yeah,” Yondu purrs. “This is gonna work jus’ fine.”

Kraglin chuckles, and Rocket feels his long finger hook around Yondu’s where they’re both snug inside him. It’s a nice angle, except—

“Quit holding hands inside my asshole, you weirdos.”

Yondu laughs. “Guess romance is dead, Krags.”

“Sure is.” Kraglin pulls his finger out. “I reckon we better fuck him before he starts tryin’ t’ bite’.”

“Don’t I know it. He’s a real bitch when he’s got blue balls.” Yondu pulls out after Kraglin. It makes Rocket feel horribly empty.

So he whines, and arches as prettily as he can to try and get one of them to get their damn dick in him already. If this doesn’t work then he’s back to his original plan, which involved tackling one of them at the knees and then sitting on their cock.

He looks over his shoulder when he hears the thump of Yondu’s coat hitting the floor. The rest of his gear follows, and Rocket greedily watches him strip off his underwear.

Kraglin never takes as long as Yondu to undress; once the knife holster’s out of the way, that jumpsuit peels off for easy access. It’s great for middle of the day blowjobs.

Yondu kneels on the bed and looks at Rocket. “C’mere, boy,” he says gently, like he knows how eager Rocket is under all his snarling. 

And he is eager. He wants them so badly it makes his mouth water and his whiskers tingle. He’s wanted Yondu inside him since the first time they touched, and now that he’s about to get it he don’t quite know what to do with himself.

Rocket sets his hands on Yondu’s thighs, looking from his half-hard cock to the seam of his pouch and finally to his face. Those gorgeous red eyes are serious when they meet his.

“I don’t do this much,” Yondu says quietly. “Not for awhile, at least.”

“You think I care about that?” Rocket scoffs. “I don’t.”

“I jus’ meant—” Yondu clears his throat. “If you wanted Kraglin t’ go first, I’d understand.”

“I don’t,” says Rocket softly. “I want you. And then him, and then you again. I want you to pass me back and forth until I lose track of who’s in me. I wanna come so many times I pass out, and I wanna wake up with one of you still fucking me. Think you can do that, old man?”

Yondu’s eyes crinkle when he grins. “Watch who you call old, greedy brat.”

Rocket leans down to lick gently at the head of Yondu’s cock, teasing him until he’s hard and cursing under his breath. 

“Shit, boy, come up here.” A heavy hand curls around his side, urging him up, and Rocket lets Yondu move him until he’s spread across thick blue thighs. His back is pressed against Yondu’s chest, and Yondu strokes him low on his belly. 

Rocket squirms against Yondu’s cock. It still feels huge when the head brushes stickily against his hole, but it’s not quite as intimidating as before.

Kraglin passes Yondu the lube, and Yondu squirts a glob over his cock, hissing at the cold. He scoops some onto his fingers and slides them into Rocket, who whines because yeah, it is kinda cold. Almost enough to make his dick retreat, but not quite.

And then he forgets all about the cold lube, because Yondu’s lining up. There’s a blunt cockhead pressing against his asshole, and Rocket’s mouth falls open with a shivery moan.

Kraglin’s watching them both, eyes hooded. His gaze drops to where Yondu’s cock rests against Rocket’s hole and then he meets Rocket’s eyes.

“Put it in him,” he says softly.

Yondu _pushes_ , and Rocket moans loud enough to hear down on Xandar. He’s being gentle, but the stretch is so intense it borders on pain, and Rocket’s pinned against his chest, panting like a wounded animal. He can’t decide if he wants to push back into it or claw his way out.

He ain’t feeling so human right now.

“Hey now,” Yondu murmurs to him; he’s petting Rocket’s belly soothingly. “I know. I know, Rat. It’s a lot, ain’t it?”

Rocket nods, trying to breathe. 

“You feel real nice, boy. Am I hurtin’ you?”

“No.” Rocket swallows, trying to clench his ass. He can’t, and that makes him moan weakly.

“You wanna know somethin’?” Yondu whispers conspiratorially. “This bit was always my favorite part. Right at th’ beginnin’ when you can feel that stretch. Feels like you’re gonna fall apart, don’t it?”

Rocket nods. He’s remembering how to breathe; Yondu’s hand dips down to curl around his cock and he forgets again. He bucks into the touch— _fuck,_ he’s sensitive—and the movement sets off a chain reaction.

Yondu grunts and jerks inside him, bumping Rocket’s prostate. It makes him howl, head thrown back against Yondu’s chest. Yondu’s cock feels like it goes on forever, like it’ll impale Rocket, and he keeps gasping every time it pushes even _deeper_ inside him.

Yondu’s working his hips now, thrusting shallowly to ease Rocket into it. “I got you,” he pants, petting Rocket’s belly. “I got you.” But he sounds just as strained as Rocket feels.

Right now Rocket loves him so much it hurts. He reaches back for him, trying to touch his face, and Yondu ducks his head to press a kiss to Rocket’s hand. 

Big sap, but Rocket loves it. The stretch doesn’t feel as overwhelming now, with gravity and his own weight working to unmoor him. Now it’s good. Fuckin’ fantastic, actually. A few more thrusts, and Rocket starts to ride it out, hips shifting like when Kraglin fingers him.

“There ya go.” Speaking of, Kraglin’s still watching. He’s got a little smile curled around his lips when he meets Rocket’s eyes. “Look at you, takin’ it like a champ.”

“Feels good,” Rocket manages.

“Bet it does.” Kraglin reaches down to palm his cock. Rocket’s eyes follow the motion, breath hitching at the sight.

Yondu groans deep in his chest and pulls out. “Krags, take over.”

Kraglin looks from Rocket to Yondu, and a predatory look flashes across his face. It’s there and gone so fast Rocket almost misses it. But even fuck drunk, he catches the implication.

“Sloppy seconds again, huh?” he asks as he crawls over to Kraglin. “You gonna make me tell you everything he did to me while you fuck me?”

Kraglin pulls him into his lap. “Don’t have to,” he whispers, and he sounds so happy about it that Rocket tilts his head up. He needs to kiss Kraglin right now.

Kraglin gives him what he wants, stroking Rocket’s face with the back of his hand. His smile is all sweetness now. “Hands an’ knees, princess.” 

Rocket grins and gets into position, throwing a saucy wink over his shoulder as Kraglin lines up behind him. He’s ready for it when he pushes in, bracing himself and shoving back into it.

“Fuck,” hisses Kraglin. “You’re as tight as I knew you’d be. Feels real good, gorgeous. Real fuckin’ good...”

Rocket moans, trying to match Kraglin’s rhythm, but the guy fucks like a jackhammer; Rocket can only dig his hands into the blankets to keep from getting fucked up the bed. Now he knows why Yondu loves this so much. Kraglin’s cock keeps hitting his prostate, making Rocket shake with every thrust. After three days of getting played with and no relief, and he’s about to go off just from this.

“Kraglin,” he whines, “Kraglin, I’m gonna come.”

“I know,” Kraglin growls, running a possessive hand up his side. “Do it. I wanna feel ya come on my cock.”

Rocket shudders; it only takes a few more thrusts for him to spill all over the blanket. He can’t help the breathy, punched-out noises coming out of him. His orgasm keeps going, intense enough that his eyes roll back in his head. He slumps, still weakly gripping the blankets, and whines when Kraglin pulls out.

“Yondu,” he says huskily, and shit, Rocket doesn’t think he’s ever heard Kraglin call Yondu by name—“want you to come in him. Do it.”

Rocket groans weakly as Yondu starts in on him again. It’s relentless, the pressure and the stretch and the lightning that flashes under his skin every time Yondu hits his prostate. All of it together creates something that’s edging toward _too much_.

Not that he’s complaining. He asked for it, after all. 

Yondu comes with a hissed curse and a groan, thrusting in hard. Rocket can _feel_ it, hot inside, and that—just the thought of it—sends a shock of pleasure through him. When Yondu pulls out, he leaves come dripping from Rocket’s hole and soaking his thighs.

Rocket wants to reach back and taste it, see how their tastes mingle, but he doesn’t get the chance.

Kraglin slides into him, fucks him steadily through the mess. The sounds are obscene, wet squelching noises that drive little spikes of lust through Rocket. Kraglin lets out a little noise and leans forward onto his elbows, body covering Rocket’s. 

There’s lube and come dripping down his balls, and Kraglin’s panting harshly above him. It’s incredible. Rocket’s dick is out of commission, but he can feel another orgasm building, slow and frighteningly intense, behind his balls with every thrust. 

“‘M gonna come again,” he slurs.

Kraglin actually snarls, shifting the angle of his thrusts to grind against Rocket’s prostate, and the slow build to orgasm picks up the pace. Rocket’s sobbing, actual tears running down his cheeks as he grips the blankets and holds on. He presses his cheek against the bed and looks up at Yondu, meets those hungry red eyes and that’s it, he’s coming again, soaking the bed underneath him and sobbing as Kraglin fucks him through it.

“ _Oh god._ ” Kraglin gives a few more rabbity thrusts and then he’s coming too. He slumps forward, careful not to crush Rocket even now. The fur on Rocket’s cheek flutters as he pants over him, trying to catch his breath.

“You cryin’?” Kraglin asks softly.

Rocket shakes his head, hiding his face in the blankets. “Shut up.”

Come is already leaking out of him where they’re still joined; Rocket’s gonna be _drenched_ when Kraglin pulls out. It’s exactly what he wanted. And he likes feeling Kraglin covering him like a warm hairy blanket, even if he’s stuck laying in his own wet spot. At least it smells good.

“We’re gonna have to change the sheets,” he mutters.

Yondu reaches out to stroke his arm. “Yeah, probably. My god, you look pretty when yer gettin’ railed, boy.”

Why that’s embarrassing after all the stuff he’s done, Rocket can’t say, but it still makes him duck his head bashfully.

“It’s true,” Kraglin murmurs above him. 

Rocket turns to peer up at him and ends up looking straight up Kraglin’s impressive nose. It’s not the best view, but he loves the guy. He licks his cheek instead of answering. 

Kraglin leans into it, nuzzling their fuzzy cheeks together. “You did so good,” he whispers. “It’s always so good with you.”

From anyone else, they’d be sweet little words that don’t mean much. Hell, they are sweet little words that don’t mean much. But they land somewhere in Rocket’s chest and bounce around his ribcage, warming him from the inside like an ion drive.

He lets Kraglin pull out and get up to go change the sheets, too blissed out to complain even when Yondu cradles him in his arms like a damned baby. Later, maybe he’ll bitch about it, but right now it just feels good.

“Where’d you get clean sheets from?” he thinks to ask when the bed is (sloppily) made and they’re all curled up together. 

“Took Drax’s,” says Kraglin, smirking a little. “I figured we’d need ‘em so I checked his room earlier. He wasn’t home to tell me I couldn’t.”

Rocket snickers. “I won’t tell.”

“Yeah, better not. He ain’t as scary as Nebula, but it’s close.”

Yondu puts his arms behind his head and grins up at the ceiling. “Don’chu worry, Krags. He asks, we’ll jus’ have t’ tell him what we needed them sheets for.”

“Drax won’t care,” Rocket yawns. “He ain’t uptight like Quill.”

“Don’t talk about Quill right now. I’m still feelin’ sexy.” 

“Thought you always felt sexy,” says Kraglin.

“I always _look_ sexy. There’s a difference.”

“Dork,” mutters Rocket, and grins when Yondu starts sputtering protests.

—

Rocket wakes up the next morning with a gaping asshole and a huge appetite. He tries not to think of the two as being at all connected. Butt stuff is only fun as long as he can keep up certain barriers in his mind.

Kraglin reassures him he’s not walking funny, so they go to the mess hall to see what’s being served while Yondu takes advantage of the hot water supply on the _Starhawk._

Rocket still can’t get used to the precision with which Stakar runs shit. It’s so different than the half-assed way they do things. And Yondu never ran his Ravagers like this either, from what Rocket remembers. Quill would have known how to pick his shit up if that was the case.

“Hey Kraglin.”

Kraglin looks up from where he’s already hunched over his food.

Rocket thinks about what he’s trying to say. “Do you still feel like a Ravager?”

Kraglin pauses. He takes his time chewing his food before he answers. “I ain’t totally sure what ya mean.”

“You ain’t like these chumps,” says Rocket. “I just wondered. You know.”

Kraglin frowns like he’s thinking it over. “You wanna know if I feel like a Guardian of the Galaxy,” he finally says.

Rocket looks down. “Sounds stupid when you say it out loud,” he mutters.

“No, it don’t.” Kraglin picks up his spoon and admits, “I wouldn’t wanna go back t’ how things used t’ be.” He stares down into his porridge, a frown on his face. His shoulders hunch a little. 

“Not wantin’ to go back isn’t anything against your friends,” says Rocket quietly.

Kraglin looks at him. “Sometimes I wonder what they’d think about us,” he confesses. “Tullk an’ Oblo. They was my best friends. They died for the cap’n, an’ we just passed the title onto Quill. Seems sorta disrespectful sometimes.”

“If they were really your friends, they wouldn’t want you to keep bein’ miserable.” Rocket ain’t great at this whole friendship thing, but he knows that much. 

Kraglin drops his eyes back to his food. “Guess so,” he mumbles.

Rocket wants to touch him, but out here things ain’t that simple. The Ravagers still watch them with distrust, and Rocket’s not sure how they haven’t been jumped yet. Maybe Stakar put the fear of god into them. Still, the unfriendly stares remind him a little of being in prison. He knows why Kraglin trains with Nebula; show weakness in a place like this and they’ll tear you up. It keeps him from reaching over and squeezing Kraglin’s hand now.

Oblivious, Quill sits down across from Rocket with Groot on his shoulder. “Hey. We’re gonna take Mantis down to the city today. You want in?”

Rocket glances at Kraglin. “You should go,” he says. “You gotta be sick of hangin’ around here all day.”

“Thought I was wanted for desertion,” says Kraglin wryly. “‘Sides, the Quadrant’s at an important stage—”

“I got the Quadrant,” Rocket interrupts. 

“Kraglin, we took care of your stuff the first day.” Quill looks confused. “Deserting thirty years ago isn’t a huge deal when you saved the planet.”

Kraglin blinks, then turns to stare hard at Rocket. “That’s real interestin’, Pete. Some jackasses forgot t’ mention that.”

Rocket hastily picks Groot up off the table and holds him in front of himself with a winning smile.

Groot beams up at Kraglin.

“Anyway,” says Rocket. “Passing over the fact that I was an ass, you should go. Get Yondu something tacky, he’ll love it.”

“Quit talkin’ shit about my figures. They’re cute.” Yondu plonks down next to Quill and steals the bread off his plate. Quill doesn’t even notice. “You of all people oughta appreciate me likin’ cute li’l things.”

Rocket doesn’t blush, okay? Honest. Luckily Gamora and Nebula make for a good distraction, cutting a swath through the crowds simply by walking together with their food trays. Mantis follows them, antennae perked, and Drax brings up the rear.

Quill’s face lights up at the sight of Gamora, and Yondu uses the opportunity to steal a piece of fruit off his plate with a wink at Rocket.

“So you goin’ t’ Xandar with us, Krags? Get some o’ them gross skewered bugs ya like so much?”

Kraglin perks up. “They ain’t bugs, they’re crustaceans. An’ they make this sauce t’ go with ‘em...” He trails off with a dreamy sort of smile.

Rocket never knew Kraglin was a foodie. “Must be good. You never look at me that way.”

Kraglin grins. “You forgot t’ tell me I ain’t wanted by the Nova Corps anymore.”

“How did you forget to mention that?” asks Gamora, shaking her head.

“‘S alright, girl. He’s been distracted,” says Yondu with a dirty grin in Rocket’s direction.

Rocket ducks his head, face burning. He’s not sure how he manages to get through the rest of the meal, not with the way Yondu keeps wiggling his eyebrows when no one’s looking. Rocket can’t even kick him under the table because he’s too far away.

“You look like a dirty old man,” he mutters. “Cut it out.”

“I am a dirty old man. Thought that’s why you liked me.” Yondu’s grin is filthy.

Rocket snorts a laugh.

“Awww, you guys are flirting.” Quill smirks. “I can’t tell if that’s cute or gross.”

“Shut up, Quill,” Yondu says easily. “Or I’ll tell you more’n you wanna hear.”

“Shutting up!”

“You certainly are curious about their relationship considering how disgusting you apparently think it is,” Nebula remarks, popping a piece of fruit in her mouth. “One might suspect you have daddy issues.”

Rocket wishes he could get a picture of Quill’s face. He goes beet red and starts flapping his mouth like a fish.

It’s almost as funny as the laugh Yondu brays, loud enough to turn heads all over the mess hall.

“Oh, li’l sister got you good, boy,” he chortles, pounding the table.

Quill looks down, muttering under his breath about how of _course_ he’s got daddy issues, but she really doesn’t have to rub it in, and where’d all his food go?

Nebula cranes her head to smirk at Gamora.

Gamora, for her part, looks between her boyfriend and her sister with the kind of resigned affection that Rocket feels every time Yondu brings home a new ugly toy.

And Rocket is suddenly overwhelmed by how much he loves these dysfunctional assholes. He shakes his head, smiling to himself, and when he catches Gamora’s eye, he sees the same feeling reflected back at him.

He has to laugh at the baffled looks the other Ravagers are giving them. They might be a weird family, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.


End file.
